The View from the Shed At The Old Place Which Looked Out Toward The Big Pasture

The corral closest in this picture was a fence with poles my father set with his dad. I helped dad replace the poles and posts in the corrals a bit further up the hill.

Everything seems to be there, although I'm sure an occasional pole needs replacement.

My dad always told me to work hard and do things so well, that I wouldn't have to do the job again.

His words basically said that my son and his son would have to do the job, and they, if they followed dad's advice about doing a good job, wouldn't ever have to worry about it again for the same period of time.

The farm needed constant care, something that didn't happen after the passing of my father. I still have memories of the work we did together.

It consisted of setting posts, hauling rocks, spraying weeds, herding cows, building fences, fixing fences, repairing farm equipment. That's what you did on the farm. It wasn't about just driving a truck or a tractor, and those who knew me and my dad understood that fact.

That's the thing about city folk, who mark themselves by spending their childhood watching the equivalent of I Love Lucy reruns. When you actually get out of a chair to do something away from a TV or put down knitting needles, suddenly you become aware of the work dad and I did.

I mention the two of us, but the reality of the situation was that age was the only thing, that disqualified a person from helping. My youngest sister was only a fourth grader in my last year of being on the farm, before I went to college. But she knew exactly how hard we worked and what we did.

There are no regrets for me--just pleasant memories of having known my dad and having been able to work by him for so many years.