Bloom Where You're Planted Farm

Its just twenty-three days until we open for our fifth pumpkin patch season!  Things have been moving along surprisingly quickly this week, thanks in no small part to my father-in-law, Richard.  A full-time farmer, Richard used to and still does work occasionally as a carpenter.  Both these skills/occupations have been a God-send to us since Terry's accident, as Richard has been putting up our hay and helping Terry build our new hay racks.  Now we have big, round hay bales ready for the kids to play on (and later for the horses to eat), the first hayrack is nearing completion, and as I write this the contractor just pulled in to trench a water line over to the Schoolhouse Cafe!

We're really excited to finally offer hay rides to our customers and think it will be a lot of fun for us as well.  A hay ride ticket will be included with our base admission fee.  The ride will take customers out to our southern pumpkin fields which will now be "U-Pick".  I'm especially looking forward to this, because it will mean less pumpkin picking for me!  :-) 

Here's a glimpse at how the pumpkins are coming along.  They're starting to ripen and are looking forward to going home with our happy customers!

I always seem to get reflective and nostaligc this time of year.  My grandma, who lived on this farm for over 55 years, passed away two years ago this week at the age of 92.  Her name was Florence (Meisinger) Brandt, and she and my grandfather Bill bought this farm in 1944.  They'd been married for several years, and grandpa was anxious to own and work his own land, rather than working for another farmer as he had been doing.  They started their family here, raising my mom and her older sister on the farm. 

Grandpa died in 1973, but Grandma stayed on the farm until the late 1990s when she moved over the hill to my parents' house.  Terry and I bought the acreage a few years later, and Grandma was thrilled to have us living in and caring for her old home.  She didn't even seem to mind that we gutted the whole place and made it completely different than it was.  She realized we needed to make it our own, although she did think we were a little crazy to expose the old ("cold") pine floors rather than recarpeting.

Having grown up just a mile from Grandma's house she was a huge part of our lives.  We almost never had a babysitter -- we went to her house or she came to ours.  She had more faith and love of the bible than anyone else I've known.  She loved music, children, cats and dogs.  I wish that every child could live over the hill from their Grandma's (and/or Grandpa's) house.  It was a great way to grow up.

I learned to be frugal from my grandmother, although not nearly as frugal as someone who lived through the Depression as she did.  As we cleaned out the cupboards and drawers of her house in anticipation of moving in, we found sacks full of old bread bags, piles of used twist-ties, a bag full of slivers of nearly-gone bars of soap, and tons of buttons, zippers, fabric scraps and rags, all kept around "just in case."  It gave me a new appreciation for how lucky we are now.

Living here in this house makes me feel close to her.  Her handwritten sign "Please Close Door Tightly" is still stapled to the back of the basement door.  She loved cats and dogs, but HATED mice.  :-)  I miss her and think of her often, and that sign always makes me smile. 

Thank you for letting me share these memories with you.  Have a great weekend, and stay warm! 

--Teresa

90th birthday, September 2004