Up on the farm because I couldn't say down on the farm cuz this was such an up day . . .

Ryan has the middle name of his Grandpa Dale. Grandpa Dale was a farmer wannabe. His father and grandfather farmed and his uncles farmed and Dale loved the farm. Dale helped out with farming whenever he had the opportunity. He spent two years after high school working on a Teen Challenge Training dairy farm in Pennsylvania and told some pretty good cow stories.

I was less than excited during our first year of marriage when Dale excitedly (seriously) took me “home” to Uncle Howard’s farm so that we could help hoe weeds out of the bean field! There were more exciting times when he went to help bale, etc. but combining wheat or corn—actually driving the combine—was the cat’s meow. I had to say that because yes, he liked cats, oh my.

It would be quite a long way from honest to say that loving-everything-farm is a genetic family marking. However, I am living for these past few days in the land of pretend.

So this is really about my sweet everything-farm grandsons, okay the farm part is a stretch but not the sweet part and the farm part was true for the morning.