Today I prepared our thanksgiving feast. No feast would be complete without apple pie. Not just any apple pie, one like my mother used to make. You see, no apple pie is complete without a smiling face.
I never thought of myself as a traditional person until I reached adulthood. Basically, I think it's because I didn't realize I was. Not until I read a book in University about rural history and the role of women in it. Through the chapters I recognized stories told by my grandmother, mother and some I could tell myself. Weird I thought, that I can relate to these women from a century ago and the ripe ol age of 21. It's somehow comforting.
My goal as a farmer, which is shared through history, is to feed my family. Not to become rich, not so someone can call me successful. Just so I can be a little more self reliant, and simple and pure. So I can teach that to my kids, like my parents taught me. Maybe tradition is as much thought as it is action.
Most of the ways my grandparents used are long gone, but some remain. The more I look the more I find. With our new home, new land and the beginning of our farm, I have noticed it more. Especially lacking a tractor. I'm thankful for being shown how parents and grandparents did things. How they made do with what they had. I'm proud of the fence I built, with Grampy's home made fence tightner.
I know I will appreciate a tractor a whole lot more when we finally have the luxury. But I think I'll get a harness for the horse first. I'm sure my Dad can teach me, after all Grampy taught him.