I loved the smell of our dairy farm, the sound of the crowing rooster, mooing cows, and the feel of the soft grass beneath my bare feet as I ran though the yard. I loved the wind in the winter and spring. I embraced it with my pudgy arms outstretched as it whipped me across the front lawn from the elm tree to the big blue barn. I yelled into the wind, “I am never going to leave this place!” “No one can make me.” Two months later, my Dad pulled me kicking and screaming off my beloved farm straight into a place called the Adirondack Mountains.
House on farm where I lived until nine years old.