While growing up on a dairy farm, my siblings and I worked hard, but we also played hard. Whether it was winter, spring, summer or fall, we could always be found playing outside.
In the winter, ice skating was my favorite pastime. We didn’t even have to leave the farm to skate. There was a pond behind the barn that froze to gliding perfection where we would skate for hours. It made the perfect environment for my sisters and I to pretend we were famous figure skaters. We could all hold our own on a pair of skates, but none of us had actually mastered any fancy moves.
My dad scraped the snow off with his tractor so we could skate to our hearts’ content. When enough water collected in the field behind our house, that also turned into a skating rink in the winter. If skating conditions at home were not good, my parents drove us to the ice rink in town on Sunday afternoons.
One year, while skating on the pond by the barn, my sister, Susanne, fell through the ice and into the water when she skated too close to an area that was not completely frozen. It was terrifying. My sister, Sara, and I didn’t know what to do so we yelled for my dad. I was pretty little at the time, and I don’t remember all the details, but I know there was a lot of screaming and crying. One part that is still vivid to me was the look of fear on my sister’s face. I prayed she wouldn’t drown. I don’t remember how far away my dad was at the time, but he got there quickly and rescued her. Thank God.
Sledding was another favorite wintertime activity. We had some big hills on our farm which were probably not my dad’s favorites when doing fieldwork, but they were great for sledding. The only problem was it took so long and was so exhausting to climb back up the hill that we usually only sled down a few times per outing. I preferred the much smaller hill by our house. It was part of the lawn that sloped to where our machine shed sat. It was probably only 6-7 feet at its highest point, but that also meant you could be back up at the top in no time. Once we got to the bottom of the hill, the sled kept going until we hit the side of the machine shed. I would sled down that hill for hours when I was young.
Instead of building snowmen, my siblings and I were more into building forts. My brother was a master snow fort builder, constructing structures that even included bathrooms.
When the weather was nice, I loved to ride my bike all around the farm and in the barn and go on 3-wheeler rides. After evening milking, we would play volleyball or ghost in the graveyard, or some other game that we made up. I also spent hours washing and leading my show calves around.
My son once told me I was lucky I grew up on a farm because there was always something to do. This is true. Boredom was never an issue. I could always find ways to keep busy. I never needed anyone to entertain me.
We had acres and acres to play on, and our imaginations ran wild. There were no cell phones to distract us. The internet had not been invented. Social media was not available. We couldn’t check what our peers were doing, nor did we care. All that mattered was having fun and living in the moment.
Even as a kid, I knew my childhood on the farm was a good one. But somehow you don’t realize how good you really had it until you are an adult. Once I was fully grown and on my own, I could truly appreciate the gift of the great childhood I had been given, even if it meant I had to wake up early on a Saturday morning to milk cows while my friends got to sleep in.
I was fortunate to grow up around lots of animals and endless fun at my fingertips. It was a happy and healthy upbringing, providing me with a well-rounded experience that included just the right amount of work and play.
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