Monday, June 28, 2010
Things have certainly changed around here. There were farms when my family moved here and orchards. We picked apples and peaches just up the road. If there wasn’t time to go out to the orchard we could stop at the packinghouse and pick out a half-bushel to take home. The neighborhood I live in used to be part of a farm. My friend’s house was built on the site of the old farmhouse. When part of the lawn sank a bit, the original well was discovered. It had to be filled in for safety, of course, but for a while it was a window into the past. Now we have serious traffic jams and housing developments. Our township rescued the last working farm as a tribute to the community’s heritage. The market where fresh produce was sold all through the growing season was spiffed up and expanded but the bones of it are still evident. I was on my way there the other day and saw the tractor-crossing sign. It isn’t new but it caught me in a nostalgic mood. I’m glad the farm was preserved as a working entity rather than an historic artifact. Our roots, literally, come from the land wherever we currently reside and it’s good to remember that.