The Field - Flashback Friday

 I’ve been sitting here all night, doing random things on the computer, some productive, some mind-numbingly wasteful, telling myself the entire time, “I have to write a blog post for tomorrow”. Here it is, 8:30 Thursday night, and I still haven’t quite decided what to write about. I didn’t write anything for Wednesday’s blog, so I really feel the pressure to share something – anything – on Friday.

 I guess Flashback Friday is as good as it’s going to get.  

 I went through my old pictures, looking for one with beautifully colored trees in the fall. This is the one which surfaced. It was taken in 1976 in the field across the road from the house where I grew up.

 Back around the time I was born, after Grandpa was gone and there would be no more farming to be done in the field, Mom and Dad planted Norway pines. One day, these trees would provide a little income. But no matter how tall those trees grew, that 20 acre patch would  always be the “field.”

 When my sister Pat and I were little, we had all sorts of adventures in the field, under the growing pine trees. We gathered hay to use as bedding for our rabbits. We sled down this hill in the winter. It doesn’t look like much in the picture taken last year. How can a hill shrink in forty years?

 Then there was the rock pile, all those boulders gathered from the field so Grandpa could use the land. I sat on the round rock on the right, while Pat straddled the one on the left, and we’d do something – funny how I can’t remember what we did perched on those rocks. I tell my husband if we ever sell that land, that I want to find someone to move those two boulders to our yard. The problem with that is what will I do if we sell our house and move. Of course, I’d want to take those rocks with me. How much do you think they weigh?

 This year, our logger has been harvesting the timber from the field. So much has changed and so much has stayed the same. 

 And because every girl needs a dog to share her adventures. . . .