I have been thinking about the country a lot lately. My husband will attest to that. I grew up in the country where my neighbours lived miles away. I miss the freedom of living in the country.
We didn’t live on a farm but we did have a huge garden. (please note – none of these pictures are mine. I found them on line they just fit what’s in my heart.)
I remember all the weeding we did, and all the weeding I didn’t want to do. I remember telling mom that the dirt made me itchy, so I didn’t have to weed any more. I remember planting seeds with Mom in the garden and I remember the orange Tupperware container that she used to soak her beans in.
I remember shelling peas and the green thumb that came along with that.
I remember picking saskatoons and the purple fingers that came with them.
I remember riding dirt bikes, quads, and snowmobiles with friends. Be safe and be home before dark were the only rules.
I remember waiting for the school bus and the 30 minute ride to school and back every day. I remember some of the great conversations we had on that school bus.
I remember long walks down country roads.
Investigating old farm sites was one of my favourite things to do.
I remember the darkness of the night and northern lights. I haven’t seen northern lights like that in years.
One of the biggest things I remember is wanting to leave, to move away from small town no-where and make my own in the city.
Now I’d give anything to go back.