You Can Go Home Again

I periodically get up to Pennsylvania to stay with my brother and his wife and visit my dad, who is in an Alzheimer's unit. It's always a poignant time and on the way there I get to cruise through the area where I was born and raised - in the heart of the Pennsylvania Dutch country. I grew up on an incredibly beautiful farm set back on what is still a dirt road. The barn was built in 1740 and the house not long after. My parents bought the farm the year I was born and eventually gave it up when it became too much to manage – about 40 years later.

Last week I left Washington, DC in the late afternoon, rolled into a neighbor's farm about 11:30PM and crawled into the back of my Honda Element, where I had my sleeping quarters all set up.

Before dawn I woke up and wandered around the farm with my camera for much of the morning.  I'll post some of the shots on my site as I get them edited.

This was a working farm, with a smoke house, chicken coops and while the barn never had running water, it's housed many generations of cows, sheep and pigs.  We had as many as 45 sheep and multiple horses, chickens, quail, geese, cats, dogs, rescued raccoons and hawks.