Childhood Memories

Some of my fondest childhood memories are from visiting my grandfather's farm.  My grandfather had several hundred acres in mid-Missouri near Boonville, Missouri, where he raised livestock and grew crops.  Many acres were wooded, as well.  I never really saw much of the farm except for the area closest to the house, but it was a magical place.

I can remember like yesterday driving down the blacktop county road as it turned and curved.  Up one hill and down another.  We knew we were getting close when we took a large curve to the left and could look down on my aunt and uncle's farm.  A few turns later and we turned onto the gravel road.  The first hill was huge.  We always begged our dad to drive fast, but he never did.  Sometimes he would slow and turn up to my aunt and uncles' before continuing on to my grandfather's house.  Other times we would continue on, knowing we would visit later.  We would pass the trailer where my cousin lived and a farm on the left who I didn't know, but I'm sure my mom did.  I was always fascinated that they didn't have a gate on their drive, but an open grate that kept the cows from crossing and getting out.

Eventually we came to the small creek that the area was named after.  A road to the right would take us down to a favorite fishing and swimming hole and a large flat rock you could drive several cars onto. Dad would always stop on the old truss bridge and we would take a few minutes to see how high the creek was and watch the water flow down the small fall that looked more like a wide slide. 

Then we were off again, curving to the left and then right.  A large hay barn was on the left with old farm equipment nearby.  On the right were crops; sometimes corn and other times hay or soy beans.  Finally we would come to the "T" in the road with the mailbox mounted on a wagon wheel and we would all take notice. It was not much further now. 

Turning right and then curving to the left, another farm down the hill belonged to a relative of my mom's.  Next was my grandfather's house.  Dad would stop and mom would get out to move the gate.  It was a simple tree post with two fence wires running the length.  Mom would carry the post to the side so dad could pull through.  She would then replace the post and get back in to drive down the long gravel driveway to my grandfather's house. 

We had gone back in time.  To a simpler life and adventures to be found at every bend.

Note: This is the first of a series of posts about my childhood adventures.