When you think of hay, you think of grass seeds and alfalfa from the greatest farmlands in the Pacific Northwest. Ultimately, it doesn’t really matter where you live near these so-called – “farms.” It could be anywhere in America or anywhere in the world.
There are a billion little things about living on a farm or a ranch as some may call it, give or take. The smell of fresh living Douglas and Noble Fir trees towering the surrounding hills of my grandparent’s farm and more as I reminisced my childhood memories during the late 1960s and early ’70s, as my Mother and I followed the clan of my late Aunt and Uncle and Grandparents to a rural remote town not far from the Lane and Douglas County Line in Western Oregon along the heart of the Willamette Valley in what was known at the time in the 1800s has the Applegate Trial with a connection to the Oregon Trail to the north.
It felt like home – very much at home, far and away from the nearest big city some thirty to forty-five minutes from where we lived along the Interstate Five corridor. The setting was picture perfect and was at ease to call home.
I was only a tyke, a three-year-old that had strong memories and strong abilities to even conquer the most ambitious dreams in life while living on the family farm.
What made the most of these memories is something that stuck like glue – yes glue. Evidently “Super Glue,” wasn’t invented until the late 20th Century, as most baby boomers in my generation would’ve seen today in their lifetimes.
Life was brittle, it was momentum for a three-year-old that was a die hard in the sake of paradise living in the prime needles of vast Oregon farmland. What more could a kid at that age get in the primes of growing up? Tons of memories and stories to tell the future grandkids the towering stories of the family heritage and the ghostly ghouls of “Bigfoot” and howling werewolf stories around the family campfire during those warm summer nights.
Living in the boonies, “the sticks” was cherished and lasting of a lifetime. I still dream of building a log cabin style ranch house with a picturesque writer’s studio and office overlooking the lower pasture of my families ranch. Perhaps someday, when the mega wins of the lottery become a dream – “The Ranch,” will get its dream house built and from its birth and upward ho in the finest needles of Douglas and Noble Firs.
A total inspiration isn’t just a gem, it’s a needle in the haystack that still needs to find its way to life and its inspirational thoughts to the writer’s heaven, i.e., the “writer’s studio,” where it takes on a life of its own.