Good, old-fashioned fun |

Good, old-fashioned fun

When I was young, I loved to go to my grandparent’s farm near Adams, N.D., especially when my cousins were there.

In those days we didn’t have video games and we sure weren’t going to stay inside with the adults and watch TV.

My grandparent’s farm had a barn and plenty of outbuildings that we could explore, old combines and tractors for us to play on and pretend we were driving.

One summer, the slough on the farm filled with water. My cousin and I decided to build a raft so we could float around. We found some steel barrels, some boards and some baling twine. It took all day, but finally we had a sturdy raft that was too heavy and wouldn’t float. But we still had a good time, even though our mothers were not happy with us for getting our clothes and shoes wet.

We would chew on big stalks of rhubarb and eat peas, carrots, green beans and berries from my grandparent’s garden. They also had apple and plum trees that we would raid.

The animals on the farm also provided us with a lot of entertainment options. There are endless photos of us sitting on grandpa’s ponies, holding or bottle feeding lambs or playing in the doghouse with their St. Bernard dogs. My grandparents always had St. Bernard dogs because they would scare away sales people who came to the farm occasionally.

Sometimes the animals would get us into trouble. Like the time we mercilessly teased the goats until they chased us up on a lean-to in the middle of the pasture. We cried and screamed for, what seemed like hours, until our parents came out and rescued us. The goats were off limits to us after that.

Some of my cousins came from the city and we country kids would always show off when they were visiting. We would take them to all our good hiding spots and taught them why they shouldn’t touch an electric fence. They learned that the hard way.

I don’t think there was a tree on that place that we didn’t climb or a piece of equipment that we hadn’t played on.

But the most favorite thing on my grandparent’s farm was the money tree. We would always find coins in that tree every time we visited. I don’t know why grandpa put money in that tree, but our parents could never tell us that money doesn’t grow on trees. ❖


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