Quote of the day: “Memory is the diary we all carry about with us.” ― Oscar Wilde

A View of the Farmstead where I grew up

Memories of an Iowa Farm

Last week we visited the farmstead where I spent the last half of my childhood. My family moved to this 160 acre farm when I was 9 years old. Before that, we lived on my grandfather’s farm, where my father rented the land from his dad.

Longing to own his own land, my father bought this farm in 1963. Even though at the time everyone was concerned about how much my dad paid for the land, it was a good choice. With careful management and hard work, within 10 years my dad owned the land free and clear.

After my father retired my brother lived at the farmstead and farmed the land along with many more acres. Now,my brother is retiring from farming and with no children or nieces or nephews who are farmers, a way of life is coming to an end in my family.

The House - still the same color it was when we moved there

The House on the farm – still the same color it was when we moved there

While this land has not been in the family for generations, many generations of my ancestors were farmers. Soon the last farmer in my family will be holding a farm sale and moving on to the next stage of his life. I’m excited for him and I’m a little sad to see a way of life fading away—although, if I’m honest with myself, I left farm life when I went away to college and never regretted it.

It’s just that in my mind, this place was always a place to come back to if I needed to.

Farm buildings

As I walked around the farmstead, I realized that like everywhere else in life, change is the only constant. My memory still sees it as it once was.

I know in my head how different farming is now than when I was a child. But my heart still holds memories of cherry pit fights in the orchard with my brothers and cousins, loads of fresh strawberries, black raspberries and apples to eat each summer, a huge garden full of wonderful summer vegetables, occasionally escaping helping my mom in the house to help my dad with chores, and playing with my cousins in gerry-rigged pretend restaurants where mud and sand were the main ingredients.

I remember the good times and simpler times. What my memory focuses much less on is the hard work of life on the farm.

Memories are like that, I think. The parts that touched our hearts with joy or sorrow are forever etched in our memory. The parts that did not have such emotion associated are more easily forgotten.

I miss the abundant fresh food and the carefree feelings of the child I once was. I don’t miss the hard work that it takes to make such a farm work.

A view of blue harvesters and machine shed

Memory is subjective

Everything looked smaller than I remembered on the farm, perhaps because I see through an adult’s eyes now. And many buildings on the farm have been demolished or replaced with newer buildings with far less personality and charm than the old-fashioned buildings I remember. From my memories child’s eyes the changes are a loss, from a working farmer’s eyes, a definite benefit.

Small and large differences

There never was a barn on our farm while we lived there. It had burned down years before my father bought the land, and was replaced with a “modern” machine-shed — where tractors and other farm equipment were stored. Dad converted a small storage shed into a barn where he milked our one milk cow. It wasn’t fancy or large, but big enough back then.

I saw no cats on the farm when we visited. I suspect that they have all left or died. We always had lots of cats when I was growing up. Since I saw myself as the official cat tamer, much of my playtime was spent locating new litters of kittens and spending time handling them and playing with them so that they were friendly with humans.

As a pre-teen, when I walked out the front door of the house and called, cats came running from every direction.

It felt very empty without finding any feline friends on the farm.

It has been many years since my brother has raised any livestock on this farm, although he is keeping some sheep for a friend of his. This is common throughout Iowa. Fewer farmers raise livestock and more livestock is raised in confinement buildings.

Sheep in what used to be where cattle were raised

Sheep in the old cattle yard

I am glad that the farmstead has been sold to a family who have horses and plan to raise animals for 4-H. It will be good to have livestock living there again. And it will be good to have a family living here and making new memories of life on this farm.

My roots are no longer buried in the Iowa soil of this farm. Many years ago I adopted Minnesota as my home. I am not a farmer or a farmer’s wife and I much prefer my urban life to life on the farm. Sometimes I fantasize about living on a small organic farm. There are aspects of that life that draw me, but I know myself well enough to know that other parts of that life would never fit the person I have become.

I am wishing many blessings on the land and the family who will soon live there.

Here are a few more photos from my visit to the farm: