The orchard farm that my Grandparents owned consist of 3 farms. The main farm was where the houses were right off Ustick road. It was at least 3 or 4 miles away from any small town. A good long freeway drive to Boise and a half hour driver every Sunday into Church. Caldwell Idaho was the main big town we visited from the farm for groceries and all our church activities. Now that first summer on the farm when I was 10 years old in 1989. We didn't have a church close by. We ended up every Sunday going to a different small town church. That was adventurous along with educational. And I honestly didn't like those Sundays during the first days of our life on the farm.
The Orchards on the farm were mostly apples, now we did have plums, prunes, peaches and a few Cherry trees. Our little blue cottage became our home facing the west side of the world, over that sloping hill down into the valley before your eyes could even reached the Owyhee mountains. The Idaho Snake river rolled around down below like a perfect painting, the earth was beautiful from the cottage kitchen window. When I would stand there washing dishes I found that I was never bored by every sunset. Just up the hill beside us was our Grandparents big home. They had the best panoramic view of the whole valley side. In the living room They had these huge picture windows to allow looking out all around them, out on to their farm and over all the glowing lights from the small town of Homedale. As a small kid growing up visiting and playing at my Grandparents home I would stare out those big huge windows, sometimes pretending I was living in a castle and all that land that laid before me was my own kingdom. Those dark green leaves and the perfectly planted rows of all the fruit trees along with the soft green wild grass created a magical world, the deep blue sky that opened up wide with such depth and beauty gave me such imagination. THIS was a small paradise for any 10 year old girl who was becoming aware of God. Sometimes when I felt so all alone I would stop to watch a sunset or feel the cool ground under me thinking to myself "This is such a beautiful place! Why am I so sad?"
The farm was perfect. Since that land was my Grandpa's whole life he made it shine with no weeds, no hunters, no trespassers and under no circumstances could there be goat heads or sandburrs. Grandpa was nicknamed by my Father as "The eye in the sky" for he saw everything through his binoculars and his telescope. Usually I felt safe knowing if Grandpa was home, he was watching out for us kids down below. But occasionally he caught us racing the 4-wheelers, or goofing around. He would jump on his own 2 wheeled motorcycle that was dark red with a long black seat. He would find us quickly to let us know how dangerous it was to be reckless or to drive so fast. Grandpa played a huge part in my life by being a voice of reason. When I promised him that I would be safe, I felt the need to keep my promise each time.
Now the farm was a magical place, every morning that summer was very much like camping only we had pluming. The adventures begun as I made my little bed up on the floor in the far corner of the one bedroom home. (Little did I know at the time but it would be 3 years before I slept in an actual bed again) while I watched the summer unfold, I hoped it would never end. This was why I started keeping my very first journal, I began to write out my memories even through drawing pictures. I kept a journal after that for another 10 years....That was the summer I began to write and my passion was sparked in me. I am not sure how long my vivid memory will last in my life time but at 10 years old I knew I would never want to forget this perfect summer. Now I can't recall this summer without remembering the wonderful time of catching bugs. With my butterfly net we caught many different bugs and beetles. With old baby food jars we slide the newly discovered bug into view. "WOW! What is it?" was always our first question. If I saw a bug I carefully slowly tried to catch it only to have my sister grab the jar away saying "Don't be such a sissy!" then she would capture it with no sweat. I would reply "What if it's poisonous?" She would usually snort and roll her eyes at me. For my birthday someone had given me a book that I now truly loved with all those pictures of bugs, Since I couldn't read the pictures were such a help in figuring out what bug was there. This book was thick with a black leather cover. The bright front picture was of a lady bug. I carried this book every where once my father pointed out to me that it's a guide for bugs. It was entitled "National Audubon Society, field guide to insects and spiders" When my dad called all of us kids together we listened to him read to us what kind of bug we had found, as we pointed to the pictures "I think it's THAT!", "No it's more like THIS.", "You are both wrong, here it's on the next page I remember seeing it the other day!" Then at this point Dad would stop to watch us kids struggle learn about our new found bug. He would asked "Don't you guys ever want to learn how to actually READ?" We would shrug and avoid his question. The number one question I asked all the time over and over again "Does it bite??" most times it didn't but I knew I didn't want to be the first to find out the hard way.
As I watched my father read to us from the bug book. He seemed just as interested in the information as we were. He would laugh at our questions and teach us how to take turn raising up our hands if we wanted to talk. He also showed us how to feed the baby chicks we caught out in the wild. My father knew the animal world and always encouraged us to keep catching new bugs. He had some how escape his adult world in that beautiful summer to suddenly opening up in being our friend and not just our father. "Isn't this Fun!" he asked me one evening while he was teaching us how to play softball on the gravel driveway, I threw my head back to laugh in agreement. For I knew it was very important for me to always remember him like that running hard and fast from base to base, laughing as he said he wanted to show us kid what a slide was. When the dust settled all over my Father in that summer evening I was laughing so hard in the funny moment. I could see clearly in my Daddy the little boy he really was inside.
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