farm

I remember the first time we drove down the long gravel road and into the driveway of my Aunt Shirley's farm. It was night then, so I barely caught a glimpse of the brick red barn and the matching colored house. I was just a little girl then, maybe 4 or 5, but I remember it all as if it were yesterday. The crickets chirped long and loud and the frog’s croak could be heard for miles, it seemed.