Compost Piles

I have written before about growing up in a small town. My house sat on 25 acres about 25 miles south of Nashville. It was a great place to grown up. As a kid I sometimes wished I lived in a subdivision so I could be closer to all my buddies. However, looking back I had the opportunity to experience things kids growing up in the suburbs did not. Feeding cows. Raising chickens. Riding horses.

These pictures were taken during a visit home, many years after I’d moved away. I believe they were taken around 2001. They are some of the only ones I have of two very prolific compost piles in our great big backyard. Pictured, my dad, sister and Suzy the dog are feeding and examining the piles. I believe those are tomato plants growing in the bigger pile.

It’s interesting looking back on the who’s and why’s in regards to influences in behavior in the present but you might not be surprised to know that I still compost. It may not be anywhere near as big, but even though I now live in the suburbs, I still have a compost pile.

As summer begins to bloom in the desert I wonder if my compost pile will ever be so pretty. One thing is for certain. It will certainly never be this big or have grubs so fat and green.

Winter Chicken House

It’s cold today. That means winter. I have to admit that winter in Maricopa, Arizona is nothing like winter in Nolensville, Tennessee where I grew up. Be that as it may, the windows have been open here at home for the last few days and the cool crisp air reminds me of home. I have many happy memories of home. Two specifically of which this picture reminds me.

This is the shed that stood behind our house growing up. Neither the house nor the shed is still there, but that’s what memories are for, after all.

winter chicken house

The first memory goes with the left side of the shed. Cutting, hauling, and stacking firewood with my dad. Most of the time in late fall before the ice and snow. Then fetching the firewood every morning before school and every afternoon after getting home from school. I joke that I was eleven before I knew my name wasn’t “Go Get Wood”.

The second goes with the right side of the shed. That’s where I raised my blue ribbon 4-H chickens. I won first prize at the contest. Following that, I had a successful business, at least for a kid, selling eggs. I bought my first personal computer with that egg money.

So, as winter comes on, reminding us that a new year approaches, take a moment and remember something nice. Thanks for sharing my memory with me.