In the times in which my parents grew to be adults, they had what they would hither forth, until the day they died, refer to as “the home place.”
Back in the days long past, folks got married, found a piece of dirt to farm and pieced together some kind of farmhouse. It was always simple and useful with a fireplace, a wood stove and a well or creek nearby. It was forever important to Daddy to possess the temporal remains of what had been his daddy’s — a small farm with a four-room, tin-roofed house with a porch that seemed to sigh heavily from the despair and hard times it had seen in 60 years of existence. It was close enough to a red dirt road that when the occasional car or horse-pulled wagon passed, it kicked up a dust that cleaved tightly to the windows and the two screen doors that squeaked loudly when pulled open by the rusty handles.
Keep it Clean. Please avoid obscene, vulgar, lewd,
racist or sexually-oriented language. PLEASE TURN OFF YOUR CAPS LOCK. Don't Threaten. Threats of harming another
person will not be tolerated. Be Truthful. Don't knowingly lie about anyone
or anything. Be Nice. No racism, sexism or any sort of -ism
that is degrading to another person. Be Proactive. Use the 'Report' link on
each comment to let us know of abusive posts. Share with Us. We'd love to hear eyewitness
accounts, the history behind an article.
(0) comments
Welcome to the discussion.
Please log in, or sign up for a new, free account to read or post comments.
Log In
Keep it Clean. Please avoid obscene, vulgar, lewd, racist or sexually-oriented language.
PLEASE TURN OFF YOUR CAPS LOCK.
Don't Threaten. Threats of harming another person will not be tolerated.
Be Truthful. Don't knowingly lie about anyone or anything.
Be Nice. No racism, sexism or any sort of -ism that is degrading to another person.
Be Proactive. Use the 'Report' link on each comment to let us know of abusive posts.
Share with Us. We'd love to hear eyewitness accounts, the history behind an article.