I’m drawn to the way farm buildings create a world unto themselves, especially when the big house, back house and barn are connected for protection against winter. Their coziness paints a picture in my imagination and I become the little girl from long ago.

My father, hoe in hand, waves hello as my brother and I return from school. We’re lucky that the one-room school that serves our cluster of farms is nearby, only a short mile’s walk away. The firm grasp that I have on my brother’s hand keeps him from chasing squirrels or splashing in the creek. As we get closer, we can hear the chickens and Checkers, our cow. We know Mama will greet us with fresh milk and warm oatmeal cookies. I can taste them now.