Farm Life

Bob and I lived with a foot in two worlds. One world was Yellowstone; the other was our farm in southern Iowa. I wish we would have named it something catchy, but we referred to it from the beginning as the Promise City Farm and unfortunately that name stuck. Set on the top of a ridge, it should have had a view of the South Fork river valley. Instead the builder chose to orient it to have a view of the road...guess that was more important back in the early 1900's when the house was built. I felt very happy and at home here even though living on a farm was 'way out of my comfort zone. What does a girl raised in suburban California know about farm life? Not much...but I soon learned! We were dirt poor and in fact, I started life here washing clothes in an old wringer washer and hanging them on the line to dry. Here's a bit of trivia you might like to know: in the depth of an Iowa winter, it takes exactly two and a half days for blue jeans to dry hanging in the basement. Besides learning the intricacies of the wringer washer (which BTW is awesome for washing really dirty stuff!), I learned how to drive a tractor, rake and bale hay, and use a chain saw. I helped build fence, build corrals, and build ponds. I learned about raising buffalo, raising chickens, and raising step-kids. I helped restore several acres of farmland to native prairie grass and helped restore the old Methodist church I attended in town. I planted two huge gardens, learned that in Iowa God provides the irrigation with rain (who knew..I'm from California), and taught myself how to can and preserve my crops. I became part of a small town community in Iowa where life revolves around church, family and the local school. And experienced the pure joy of fireflies, bullfrogs, and skinny-dipping in the pond under a velvety Iowa sky and twinkling stars. Good memories!