Welcome to Fern Valley

Here in central Alberta prime farm country,my husband Martin and I work together raising beef cattle and Appaloosa horses. Fern valley appaloosas have long been known for their quality of temperament conformation and color.I have recently rediscovered a love of writing and have published 2 collections of poetry. "Telling Tails" and Tails Trails and Campfire stories" . I look forward to a future spreading my wings as an author and as a horse woman .

Friday, 21 December 2012

Memories of home

Wow December is speeding along, I keep wanting to do a new post and I have put up the odd one but really not much to say. Getting Ready for Christmas, it will be the last one at mom and dads house as old farm is being sold , we will likely spend Christmas Eve at my Uncles  home for his annual gathering then home  for chores and back to the old farm for Christmas day ! A bittersweet time to be sure, but with family around it can never really be sad .
I wrote this poem a  while ago, and it is actually in my 2nd  book, but I have never before posted it. Now seems like maybe a good time to share it.
Remembering Home 
Dusty and Jigs, and an old dog named Peps
And grabbing the paper, off Aunties Barbs steps
Awaiting the School bus by the highway in September
Just some of the times I still can remember
The big old Spruce trees that reach for the sky
One lit up for Christmas in all years gone by
The old Dairy barn
And salt in blue blocks
This is the place, where I learned to walk
And to work and to ride, both bikes and on horses
And learned the true facts
Of Nature’s good and bad forces
Delivering milk, all round the farm
Those crates seemed so heavy, upon my young arm
The sweet smell of silage that wrinkled your nose
And the wonderful feeling of grass on your toes
Sweet peas so fragrant all up on the vine
Scented the breeze near grandmas clothesline
Our gardens so huge and us on our knees
Griping and grumbling
Picking green beans and peas
Farm life is good it isn’t all hard
I remember the water fights out in the big yard
100 years plus, here on this land
Where a young William Horricks. First took a stand
A heritage built, on hard work and grit
Where all of us learned, to just never quit
With George, and with Charlie, then Bud, Bill and Ron
They took up the torch, the old place stood strong
And now progress has come,
As we knew that it would
Soon new homes will be built
Where our heritage stood
I wonder will they know
Will they understand?
The magic that lies right here in this land
The light of our dreams let loose to soar
The echo of cows and the big combines roar
The things I shall take, as I say farewell
To this space
Are the memories fond, and no matter the place
That each of us land, and wherever we roam
We learned it here first
Our family is home

Not too many pictures these days either , but busy  days and COLD!
I will leave you with this for now ...
it looks
like
Santa Paws
is on his way!

Stay safe and warm my friends

8 comments:

Ami said...

Loved the poem. Home just stays in your heart, doesn't it?

Great dog shoes.. he doesn't seem to mind wearing them?

Nuzzling Muzzles said...

Parting with a home that you have such connections to is definitely difficult. Very fine poem. Merry Christmas.

Crystal said...

Love Skeeters shoes and coat, he needs a hat, lol.

I like the poem as well, sounds like a wonderful place to call home :)

Cut-N-Jump said...

Well written as always Sherry. Sorry to hear about the farm. The homestead on my Dads side of the family is still in one piece although a few changes have been made. The barn was torn down long ago where they kept their dairy cows, but someone managed to get a photo of it. Someone else then painted it in watercolors and I have a photo of the painting. Would love to go back and stroll though the pastures sometime.

Janice said...

Loved the poem. I'm sorry to hear that about the family farm...made me sad too.

kestrel said...

Merry Christmas, and glad you have a time to make more memories to treasure.

Nicole said...

Merry Christmas!!!

GoLightly said...

Home is where the heart is, and your heart is in the right place.

For those of us that moved a lot as children, it's wonderful to read about your own historical ties to the land that you love.

Merry Christmas, Fern Valley!