The End of Summer

I write this with tears in my eyes as I am reminded of how fragile that life undeniably is. Time passes us by so quickly and all that it leaves us with are those precious memories. By the time that you read this, I will be long gone. I never thought that I would be writing a letter to the new owners of this most special place. Before you tear it down to make way for a new modern farm, I wanted you to know just how beloved and cherished that this place has always been to me. I hope that you can take some of the magical, nostalgic memories and enlace them into your new life here.

For as long as my memory serves me, I will take refuge in the anamneses that were made here on my grandparents' farm. I spent every summer with them from May to August. I learned the value of a hard day's work and just how precious that time with family truly is.

There was no television and no cell phones. The only modern technology came from the old sandalwood beige mid-century 1950 Zenith AM/FM radio that sit on my grandmother's kitchen table. We’d listen to it every morning while we had breakfast and every night during dinner. It was a real treat to hear Patsy Cline and the Grand Ole Opry fill the house with music and happiness. I sat at that old kitchen table every night watching my grandmother wash dishes as she sang along. After dinner, my grandfather would turn the sound way up high so that he could hear it out on the front porch. He’d sit in that old creaky, rhythmic rocking chair smoking his pipe and looking out over the cornfield. Later grandmother and I would join him. There was rarely any conversation, we’d just sit there listening to the crickets and the frogs sing their nightly songs.

That old barn outback is where the fondest memories were made. I remember when our old cat named Hilda had her kittens in that barn. For an entire week, I slept in the hay next to them, keeping them safe and secure.

Before they went to bed my grandparents would tiptoe into the barn and cover me up with a soft, warm blanket. I’d lay there pretending to be asleep and listen to them talk about how much they loved me. Sometimes I think that they knew I was awake because grandfather would always say “I hope that old possum doesn't curl up and sleep with her again!” That was his way of trying to lure me back inside to sleep in my own, cozy bed. What he didn’t know was that I had befriended that old possum and I called him Crusty. He’d come to me every night for the snacks that I stuffed in my pockets from dinner.

Every morning I'd wake up bright and early to fetch fresh eggs for breakfast. Grandfather and I would feed all of the animals while grandmother made a big country breakfast. We knew that it was time to go inside and eat when she opened the kitchen window. The smell would lure us closer as her old radio would call us in.

On my 10th birthday, my grandfather gave me a horse. I named her Clover. He helped me fix her up a stall in the barn. During the day she roamed the farm and every night she’d return to her stable. I loved that horse dearly; I found every excuse to ride her around the farm. I clearly remember the day that she broke her leg, a vet came from far away but there was nothing that he could do. Late that night when he thought that I was asleep my grandfather had to put her down. She’s buried just behind the barn. There’s a beautiful red rose bush that marks her grave; if you ever want to go visit her.

Over the years I must have broken a million green beans inside of that barn. If you step inside, you’ll still find some hanging in the back left corner. We ate a lot of fresh green beans. Grandmother would can most of them for winter. Some of them were strung up to dry in the barn, she called them “leather britches". We sure had some good talks while we worked on the beans. She’d tell me all about her childhood and how she met my grandfather. I think that everything important and valuable that I ever learned came from within that old barn.

If you ever wonder why there’s a giant rock sitting in the barn, that’s where my puppy is buried. He was afraid of storms so grandfather let me bury him inside the barn. I couldn’t bear to place him outside; I just knew that he’d be terrified when it rained. His name was Frankie, he was my best friend for 8 whole years.

The year that I turned sixteen, I had my very first kiss inside of the barn. Joe lived about a mile down the old dirt road and would come to help my grandfather with the livestock. He was my first true love. That Summer I grew from a child into a woman within the shadows of those faded wooden walls. Oh, how I remember the time that my grandfather caught us out in his old barn. I laugh as I recall watching Joe run down that old dusty road with my grandfather chasing close behind.

Some years later I lost my grandfather in that old barn. He didn’t come inside for breakfast one morning. I found him lying in the hay, he had suffered a heart attack while tending to the animals. If you look to the left, you’ll see a giant maple tree growing near the barn. That’s where we laid him to rest. We placed a bench beneath the tree so that my grandmother could sit and visit with him. Honestly, I spent more time than anyone on that bench, crying and talking to him. I'm sure that he'd enjoy meeting you if you find the time to go pay him a visit.

Today I have gathered what’s left of my life here on the farm. As you’ll notice I have taken a few of the boards off of the barn. I’m taking them home with me and hanging them inside of my own barn. I hope that some of the magic is still left and that my own children will be able to feel it as they grow.

I hope that you enjoy your time here. Late at night if you listen closely, I think that you’ll still hear the laughter haunting the wind around this piece of land. If you happen to find a cat wandering around near the barn, please let her stay. She’s a descendent from old Hilda and she too was born there in the barn. It’s the only home that she has ever known. To be honest, this is the only home that I have ever known as well.

As you've read this letter I hope that all of the photographs that I have included bring some life to the words that I have so carefully chosen. It's hard to say goodbye, but I know that it is time. May you build your own wonderful memories here and as you do, I hope that you will find a way to keep mine alive in some form as well.