This book is a compilation of stories that first appeared
on my old web site. They range from a letter from
my dog, a letter to my grandkids, memories of people
that were an important part of my life and then just some
musings of my time up to "the farm". It is about dogs,
hunting, the outdoors and growing up as a kid. You can
 join us as we sit around grandma and grandpas' old
coal burner at Christmas time. It is a small book full of
great tales. I hope you enjoy it. 

The neighborhood

We took a drive last weekend just to see what was happening in the neighborhood around the farm. The crops look great where they didn’t get washed out, deer are everywhere and where there was standing water there were ducks. The pheasants were along the road, but mostly they were roosters. The hens are still on the nest and while we are seeing the first hatch, the cover is so high that we didn’t see many new broods. We have had a wet spring, something that is unusual up where the farm sits so we see water sitting where usually corn or beans dominate. One of the downsides to all of the rain is that it raises havoc with the pheasant nests. The cold and wet drown out nests that are low and excess moisture makes it hard for the hen to incubate. Overall, things have not looked so good for a long time. Cover is plentiful and if the good Lord watches over us it should be a banner year for wildlife.

While it is fun to view the countryside, there is a downside, and that is the one impression that we came home with. All of the abandoned farmstead’s. In every section there is at least one abandoned site where the buildings still stand as a tribute to those whose lives were developed and nurtured there, in years past. We saw a big old two story home with the windows out and the doors sagging on the hinges and Lynne said,” I bet there was a big family that lived there at one time. Lots of kids and dogs.” Further down the road a small, maybe two bedroom home stood, again with the windows missing and the door open for critters to enter. Long abandoned Lynne could imagine a couple lived there and probably witness and lived through the great depression. She can always hear the music on Saturday night and see the folks leaving for church on Sunday morning. Some flowers grow wild as a witness that at one time, regardless of how hard the times were, there was still time for some beauty in the yard. She can see the lady of the house bringing in some flowers to sit on the table to grace the meals she prepared. Lynne is a true romantic and can see past all of the hardships and pain that came with trying to make a living off of the harsh land. She sees the kids running across the fields to play with the neighbor kids down the road. A rope in a tree is where a tire once hung and the kids all took turns swinging in it. She hears the laughter and the songs that must have at one time been a part of the old place. She sees the beauty that once was. Now, it is gone. The family has left and only the memories remain. Some of the folks are probably buried in the old abandoned cemetery we just drove by. The times have changed and big farming is a reality. Big machinery, fences gone and fewer farm places to raise a family. This is all progress, we know, but it is still sad to witness this scene, what was and will never be again. The moms and dads, grandpas and grandmas are all gone. The buildings are slowly falling down and just laying there in a pile as if to say,” I gave it all I had and now there is nothing left to give”. It is fun to see the large equipment conquer the fields but I can envision a team of horses doing the same thing. It just took longer. They just leaned into the harness and pulled and the man on the iron seat holding the reins was probably just hoping that what he was planting grew and it would be enough to pay the bills, feed the kids and buy ma the new dress she has been wanting for the last couple of years. The big machines are a reality now and the horses are gone. So are the people that made it all possible. It is sad, and we say it all last Saturday evening, on a short ride in the country.