There is an old saying, you can't go home again. That is obviously untrue, since I am writing this little post while sitting in the bedroom I grew up in. And it looks pretty much the same as it did when I was seven. Meaning blue ruffles and lace, and an antiqued dresser that my mom painted for me when I was little.
Of course, the cliche isn't referring to a place. It is really about a state of mind. And perhaps it is true that you cannot return to your childhood. But would you really want to?
My childhood was not a bad one, as childhoods go. I grew up on a farm, outside of a tiny little town where everyone knew everyone, and probably your grandparents as well. When you did well, the entire town rejoiced with you. When you screwed up, the entire town knew about the family disgrace. While it can be embarrassing to have everyone knowing your business, it can also be comforting to know that everyone cares when something goes dreadfully wrong.
A farm life is not an easy way of making a living, and I worked hard as a kid, like every other farm kid. Seeing hay being baled in a field still makes me tired just thinking about it.
But it wasn't all work, either. I got to drive a tractor when I was barely old enough to reach the pedals, and mowing the lawn involved a riding mower that you could pretend was a car you were driving around. We learned to make our work a part of the play, so it wasn't as hard as it might seem from the outside looking in.
Part of the work was to feed the animals, of course, but at the same time, we also got to see animals being born. We had to feed the horses hay and oats and water, and we had to brush and groom them, but we also got to ride them whenever we wanted to. We bottle fed calves, and mucked out barns, it is true. But we also got to make forts out of hay bales, and had a rope swing in the haymow that we could ride from one side of the barn to the other.
Hard work came with some compensations, and from the garden we got fresh carrots and peas and sweet corn and beans that tasted sweeter than anything you will ever find in any store. We went organic long before it was a trend - manure on a farm is plentiful, and free for the asking. I actually carry inside my head what kinds of manure are best for growing plants, and which kind will burn them up. That kind of knowledge comes from life experience, and it can't be bought, let me tell you. Not that anyone is in the market for it, but I'm just saying....
For farm kids, when the work is done, the play begins, and it is exciting. For one thing, we had more space than most kids could ever dream of. We played FBI agents following the criminals, hiding in buildings and pretend driving the tractors and other farm implements. We played sales clerk at the hardware store and modeled and did everything in between. There is never a moment to be bored on a farm, not only because if you are, an adult will definitely find something for you to do, but also because there is always something fun or interesting available to do.
One of my happiest memories was riding my horse to the far outside reaches of our pasture, and then letting him stand there and rest while I laid on his back and read my book. I would bring a little snack or a drink, and it was heaven. I have rarely, if ever, been as at peace anywhere else in my life, as I was in the pasture with my horse and a book.
I grew up with tree houses and newborn kittens and gravel roads and granaries as a part of the landscape, and I don't regret a moment of it. I was a very fortunate child, I think, because instead of city streets, I had country roads. Instead of schedules and play dates I had bike rides and neighbor kids and sitting on the roof of a chicken coop. It may not sound glamorous, like dance lessons and soccer practice, but it was fun and free and taught me a lot about what is important in life.
I didn't want the hard life of a farm wife when I grew up, and I very intentionally shunned any situation in which that would have been a possible outcome. But it sure is a nice place to visit, even if I don't live there any more.
