Welcome to Fern Valley

Here in central Alberta prime farm country,my husband Martin and I work together raising beef cattle and Appaloosa horses. Fern valley appaloosas have long been known for their quality of temperament conformation and color.I have recently rediscovered a love of writing and have published 2 collections of poetry. "Telling Tails" and Tails Trails and Campfire stories" . I look forward to a future spreading my wings as an author and as a horse woman .

Sunday, 17 March 2013

The house that dad built, the home that love built

I wont share the pictures, not today,someday.But I will share the pictures in my heart.
The house my dad built for himself and his new bride 50 years ago , still stands  where he built it, weathered a bit,but beautiful and safe. Changed over time to suit the needs of him and his family,and softened  around the edges of my mind like a beautiful old quilt.
 The house where mom baked fresh bread and brought into  our rooms a buttered crust before dawn on those special winter  mornings.
The house where we left for  Santa ,onion sandwiches and scotch (because that's what he likes you know)
The yard and the swing set and the slide and playhouse (that he also built) where we played and laughed and fell and cried .
The home where we lived and loved and learned .
Times change and life moves forward.Mom and Dad are moving to a new place where it will be easier for them, the house will remain for a time , with the grand kids watching over it ,but it is the end of an era  in some ways . Soon the whole old  farm will be different . But the love and the memories ,comfortable and soft, like that treasured old quilt  will remain .
I wrote this poem some time ago when I first learned that the farm would be sold . Much of the family mentioned in the poem are the folks that I knew and grew up with , but the story is incomplete without , at least acknowledging  the  Quiet Giant, our beloved   Uncle Albert , who  left as a young man to farm at Toefield, and who passed away far to young  , and my gracious and beautiful Auntie Peggy who married and traveled farther away raising her family in the USA.


Remembering Home 
Dusty and Jigs, and an old dog named Peps
And grabbing the paper, off Aunties Barbs steps
Awaiting the School bus by the highway in September
Just some of the times I still can remember
The big old Spruce trees that reach for the sky
One lit up for Christmas in all years gone by
The old Dairy barn
And salt in blue blocks
This is the place, where I learned to walk
And to work and to ride, both bikes and on horses
And learned the true facts
Of Nature’s good and bad forces
Delivering milk, all round the farm
Those crates seemed so heavy, upon my young arm
The sweet smell of silage that wrinkled your nose
And the wonderful feeling of grass on your toes
Sweet peas so fragrant all up on the vine
Scented the breeze near grandmas clothesline
Our gardens so huge and us on our knees
Griping and grumbling
Picking green beans and peas
Farm life is good it isn’t all hard
I remember the water fights out in the big yard
100 years plus, here on this land
Where a young William Horricks. First took a stand
A heritage built, on hard work and grit
Where all of us learned, to just never quit
With George, and with Charlie, then Bud, Bill and Ron
They took up the torch, the old place stood strong
And now progress has come,
As we knew that it would
Soon new homes will be built
Where our heritage stood
I wonder will they know
Will they understand?
The magic that lies right here in this land
The light of our dreams let loose to soar
The echo of cows and the big combines roar
The things I shall take, as I say farewell
To this space
Are the memories fond, and no matter the place
That each of us land, and wherever we roam
We learned it here first
Our family is home

As always , stay safe and warm my friends 

14 comments:

Buttons said...

Oh you have made me cry. Bittersweet memories at this time. The poem is beautiful I can almost see what you see.
I am so sorry but it is better for your parents and it is so true that no matter what you have been left with those memories to share over and over again no matter what. HUGS take care my friend. B

Cindy D. said...

That is beautiful.

Cut-N-Jump said...

Well said and beautiful as always.

C-ingspots said...

Aah yes, I know just how you feel. It's hard letting go of the place we've always referred to as home. Bittersweet, but time marches on.

Reddunappy said...

Beautiful. You brought tears to my eyes.

Shirley said...

Ah... I see.
That is a beautiful poem, very poignant. I never had the luxury of growing up in a place that my family lived for generations, we were the wandering type of family, going wherever there was work and an affordable place to rent, with family scattered all over two countries. I have always loved the feeling of history in old farm buildings, knowing that they held families with just such good times and hard work that you have described. ((Hugs))

GoLightly said...

Hugs, dear Fern. Your beautiful poetry will keep the farm alive in our hearts forever.



Leah J. Utas said...

Well, ****.
Thanks for putting it into words, but ****!

Nicole said...

I like it. And I know the sadness that goes with that. I kind of remember when my great-grandparents farm was sold. Sad day!

Ami said...

How lovely. And I think because I have a lot of issues (unresolved, of course) your poem strikes me as very brave, too. To take out all those memories and look at them and cherish them and share.

Something I can't do.

((hugs))

kestrel said...

What a beautiful life. Wow. Sniffle...Yeah...you can really write girl.

GoLightly said...

My heart breaks for yours, though.

Willow said...

This was a wonderful heartfelt post .Poem was fantastic. Now I am humming that song. Memories ~only instead of Barbara I hear Dolly singing it. :)

cdncowgirl said...

Lovely poem, it made me tear up.