I love thinking about my grandparent’s farm. They always had a farm, but moved to this little homestead-type farm when the kids moved out, and it’s this farm that I love. My grandma (Nema), always had the farmhouse spotless, but it wasn’t sterile clean, it was the coziest place you could ever imagine. It wasn’t a dirty farm, most people think of old, unkept, animal smelling places when they think of a farm, but this was far from that. My Nema loved decorating it and keeping up with farmhouse trends, the house was full of light, the fireplace was always roaring, the windows always open.
The barn was weathered and gorgeous. The horse stalls were clean and almost always empty since the horses were free to roam the pastures. The bi-level hay loft was always full of loose hay. There were old farm tools everywhere, but organized. Everything had its place, but was never off-limits. It was a place for a child to roam free, explore, and be wild. I’m always brought back to the farm when I see big open fields, an old wooden fence to climb, a gate to ride as it opens, or a well loved barn.
