Farm photos are, perhaps, my favourites. I love the colours and the sky and the fields, and, in the case of some farms like ours, old wood and rust alongside shiny steel and modern equipment.
This ramshackle garage is where Dad had his woodshop and where he created magic. I have very dear memories of time spent in there ... the smell of freshly cut wood, sawdust ... holding tools and wood bits for Dad, watching his skilled hands carefully run wood through the table saw, running his finger over a thin line of wood glue, a pencil hooked over his ear, a cigarette dangling from his lips (bad Dad) or whistling. *sigh* I remember watching him turn bowls or legs on the lathe, creating even, graceful shapes. There wasn't anything he couldn't make in there. It was a magical place ... with lots of whistling.
During this visit we arrived while Darrel was doing something ... I don't know what he was doing but whatever it was, it was important to the farm operation. That I do know. Lynn was cleaning a bin. Also important. I remember when we didn't ever wear masks to clean bins ... not that I actually did a lot of bin cleaning I should add. I was probably making cookies, reading, or walking to the cooley.
I do, do, DO love that farm.
A Farm Visit
Farm photos are, perhaps, my favourites. I love the colours and the sky and the fields, and, in the case of some farms like ours, old wood and rust alongside shiny steel and modern equipment. 
I had the great pleasure of attending the annual lawnmower races in White Bear this year.
Any excuse for a good time. You can count on rural people to be creative and find ways for everyone to have fun. I can't remember when I last saw so many people and cars in White Bear.
And where else can you look down a back alley (or should I say THE back alley) and see a couple of horses lazing about.
The pretty, little girl is Cindy's neice's daughter who I don't recall ever having met. A very sweet little girl.
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