You see the barn was just heaven on earth to me. I would have made a good farmer's wife. But I'm not. The chosen one for me is from the city and I am content. But the smell of the damp cows and sheep, the straw, the hay.... ahhhh. I loved it in there. I learned about black angus, polled herefords, and sheep. Made a friend one year with a girl from a "small" town (even smaller than the one I grew up in ). She had a cow ready to calf. And told me to come the next day to watch. Well that's quite a thing when you're 10 to watch a calf be born. I think I missed supper that night in order to see it all. And it was worth it. I couldn't believe the slime, the effort the cow put forth, the nerves of the farmers. And the next day I ran back to see a fluffy and adorable calf. Happy Sigh.
And so what's the conclusion? I loved the freedom I had to choose to be where I wanted even at a very young age. Those were very safe times. My parents had an innate trust in knowing where I'd be. And they allowed me to learn, explore, interact with others that could teach me far more than any book could do. Yep. Those were the good old days.