Fourth of July was always the best week at the farm

The whole family would gather at the farm – cousins running around everywhere, aunts and uncles laughing in the kitchen, kids running barefoot through the yard, aunts and uncles playing a never ending game of scrabble. It was the kind of chaos that felt like home.

We had one of those families where everyone got along – so seeing everyone made for a full house and a lot of fun.

We never had enough room inside, so we put up an old ping pong table in the garage as a makeshift dining room. We’d usher around the table inside to load up our plates like the animals we fed that week coming up for feed. Grandma’s coleslaw and potato salad would be the first to go, but she always made plenty.

Grandma was like a chef in the kitchen. Everyone had a part to play but grandma was the one that made everything go smoothly. Whether it was sandwiches or a full-on meal, there was always more than enough, which was good because it seemed like the cousins would always bring friends.

Thinking about that, I think we wanted our friends to be able to experience the place we loved the most. There was so much love in that place, and joy, and happiness. I think the truest word to describe it would be peace. There was a peace about the farm that took all the outside worldly frustrations off our minds.

I don’t know, maybe it was just me but that’s how I am going to remember it.

My uncle Mark was always a blast! One year all of us guys spent the night in tents out in the yard, Mark and I had these sleeping bags grandma made us that looked like huge corduroy turtles. Mark put his over his head and started running through the yard like a wild animal. He would always get me laughing so hard it’d make me cry.

Another time he brought a video camera and decided we were going to make a movie. It was the cheesiest homemade film, but we loved every minute of it. He always had a camera of some sort. Maybe that’s where my love of photography started.

When the big day came, we’d all head over to Hurdland for the Fourth of July Celebration. Antique tractors and old restored pickups in the parade, American flags waiving from porches and storefronts – It was the kind of day that made you proud to be from a small town. It was like every county fair you heard in a 90s country song. People waiving at familiar faces – neighbors, friends, and families.

I think that’s where my appreciation for community really started to take root. Seeing how a small town could really come alive when people showed up for one another.

I think maybe that sense of connection is the same feeling I chase after today in providing food we’ve raised to those in our community. Bringing people together around honest food and simple stories.

The same way Grandma did – with a full table and a wide open heart!