Having grown up on a farm, I always felt privileged. Visiting my friends in their fancy houses in the suburbs, I was stricken with compassion (and claustrophobia) by the size of their yards. Why, there was another house right next to theirs!
And where could they pasture their pony? And what can you DO in such a restrictive environment? We farmer kids wandered the fields, built forts, climbed trees-and worked our little booties off when it was time to get the hay in.
And what kid wouldn’t want to grow up on a hundred acre zoo? I think that I, like most kids, thought of the animals as slightly different, but very interesting people. These photos taken yesterday of my grand kids’ trip to a farm tells me that kids haven’t changed, as shown by grandson Gus scientifically investigating a cow flop for potential use as something-to-chase-your-sister-with.
The Magic Barn: Growing Up Wild on a New England Farm (art and short stories, volumes 1 and 2)
volumes 1 and 2
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