Recalling a Sense of Place

I would wake up especially early on these days and would always be second to my Grandma who would already be up at the breakfast table with her Bible and highlighter in her hand.  My morning would start with Rice Crispies and I would always have to add sugar, by myself, so I could hear the ceral make noises.  After my glass of juice and shower, my brother and I would head outside to the barns to see what we could find.  Between my grandparents and aunt and uncle who lived across the Highway we would have four barns at our disposal.  This would be equivilent to heaven as a pre-teen boy.  

As soon as we would step outside you would be hit in the face with the smell of a typical farm, hog shit.  We would be armed each with a Red Ryder BB gun and plenty of BBs to go with.  The barns were old and some still had hogs or horses, they were also full with all sorts of tools and such.  My brother and I would also creep around the outside of the barns looking for bird nests and trying to be as sneaky as possible.  We didn't want to scare the birds.  I would shoot the first warning shot against the roof and the birds would come pouring down.  As the birds flew from side to side at the top of the barn we would take turns firing at will.  Though I never really remember getting any, but that wouldn't be the story I told.

After are rompings in the barn I can remember waiting on my grandpa to come in from the fields for lunch.  When lunch was over, if it was planting/harvesting season my grandpa woulds occasionally let us ride with him in his combine.  There was an extra seat where my brother would sit and I would be sitting on my grandpa's  lap, where I could smell the hogs from the farm and be stepping all over sun flower seed shells from his afternoon snack.