The Best of Both Farms

Zach and I both grew up on a farm, but they are vastly different. I grew up on the flat plains of of Oklahoma, were the trees are few and far between, it's always windy, and the dirt that blows is red. I had wheat fields for my front and back yards, all my neighbors were relatives, and the nearest town was thirty minutes away.

We had farms spread across the county, with cows that weren't seen daily. Farming where I grew up was synonymous with being poor. And probably few people from outside the state would think that our flat pastures are beautiful, but I do, it's my home.

Zach grew up in the country, but the nearest town was five minutes away, not thirty. His high school was the small town you envision, surrounded by neighborhoods, and little stores, not in the middle of a wheat field like mine. His house is surrounded beautiful woods, with rolling hills, and the smell of wood burning stoves in the air. In the woods, up the hill, behind the barn is the cattle pasture with a hand full of well kept cattle, visited daily. His dad never grew crops, but those around that area that farm are wealthy from corn, soy beans, and rice. The tractors there are clean, without a coat of red dirt covering them. They have square bales, just like the ones we put up, but in a beautiful, well kept barn, not the terribly old barn from my youth. 

I have been visiting this lovely country side for ten years now and my brain can still not wrap around the idea of farming being synonymous with wealth. Farmers there retire, not just farm until they die, very strange to me. 

I love that Zane gets to experience both of these worlds. Both with their own beauty and character. Both routed in the love of the land, hard work, and traditions from the past. I wish he could see my home, my farm, through my father's eyes. Feeding cattle over East with dad, riding the combine, ultimately being lulled to sleep by the header, playing in the wheat truck, all staples to my childhood that don't exist anymore. We still have the land, and can show him cows and chickens, but it isn't the same. The experiences of the "working farm" as dad called it, died with him, as he knew it would.

Luckily, Zane still has a Grandpa who can recreate the memories of Zach's childhood, hayrides, exploring the woods, chopping firewood, adding wood to the stove, playing in the top of the hay barn, visiting the cows, and tractor rides on some what smaller tractors. Zane eats it all up, loving all aspects of the farm as only a little boy with no idea how hard of work it really is. Over the weekend Zane got his fill of Papa's farm. He played on tractors and on the hay. Took a hayride, climbed on gates, played in rocks and by wood piles. He saw cows and asked Papa for chickens. He got dirty and loved it. I loved seeing him enjoy nature, run free, exploring the world, although it is always slightly bitter sweet, it is still such a blessing.

Making it that much more fun is that Zane, unlike me, has cousins that he gets to share the fun with. My cousins were spread across the country, so we only had farm play time once or twice a year. Zane has cousins who can play with him at both farms. What is a farm adventure without friends?

Here are all the Korenak grand kids in the top of the hay barn.

Love this shot!

Zane driving Papa's tractor.

Here are the Blakley grand kids hard at work on the farm, feeding chickens.

 What is summer at the farm without running on some hay bales?

 And some sprinkler time!!