Isn't it funny how someplace that you have never actually lived can feel so much like home? When we talk about going to 'the farm' in my family, this is where we mean. It is actually more like a series of farms....the original homestead is where my grandmother and her siblings was born. Spread out from there are acres and acres of land owned by their descendants. These farms seem to be passed around from person to person as the need arises over time. Still, we can start walking in almost any direction and end up with family. This farm belongs to my Aunt Beth - her late husband Uncle Jack was my grandmothers youngest brother.
We have been going up to the farm since we were children, and it does not seem to have changed a bit - the sugar shack where Uncle Jack boiled maple syrup, the river which floods every few years, sometimes stranding the cows on the wrong side, the rocks by the house that hundreds of kids have climbed, the barn where us city kids would follow like little ducklings as the chores were done. It is wonderful that now, my kids are also coming to know the farm. Family history has never been so fun!