This Used to Be My Playground

When I was a child growing up on the farm, I used to play in the pasture behind our house. Under this tree, and the ones neighboring it, I spent long hours dragging fallen tree branches to make walls for rooms, items from the junk yard to use as furniture, and the canopy of the trees as a roof to ‘build’ a play house for me and my friends. We’d bring our dolls and play for hours.

The trees in the pasture has seen better days, but the memories remain.

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Autumn

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Autumn, crisp fresh air
Falling leaves, drying corn stalks
Buzzing chain saws, Fall

What does this season mean to you?

Growing up on the farm, it was a time of final harvests.  Corn for the cows and for us, fire wood to keep us warm through the winter, squash and pumpkins from the garden.  It was air made crisper some how by the falling leaves and sweet with the smell of fresh cut fire wood.

This week, I’ve been helping my father cut fire wood and it’s brought back all of those memories.

What are yours?