Uncle Paul and I shared a dairyfarmers breakfast - chicken fried steak, sausage gravy, hashbrowns, two eggs, toast and an orange slice! His plate was clean - mine was not!!
Uncle Paul was born in the family farmhouse in 1926; was married and took over being a dairy farmer, responsible for 220 acres at the age of 20. The land is beautiful, still lush and green and grew anything and everything he wanted and was home to hundreds of dairy cattle. The farmhouse is on a hill overlooking gentle hills, stands of trees, a stream and an artesian well, constantly bubbling and suppling all the needed water. The cattle thrived. For years he milked, stored and trucked 10 gallon cans to the local creamery. When the creamery closed its doors Uncle Paul was forced to make a decision between spending thousands of dollars to upgrade the milking to mechanization and stainless steel or quit dairy. He quit dairy. He worked in the local saw mill for 25 years to support the farm. He lived in the family farmhouse that he was born in for 63 years and sold the farm in 1988.
The house he lives in now faces one of his old fields. Today there is wheat standing knee high. It is thick and the perfect green. There are filbert trees in the distance and just beyond the trees, the stream. As we visit and I watch him, he is still a farmer; still wearing overalls, can still tell you what kind of tractor is in the field just by listening and still loves the land. Uncle Paul worked hard and his body is slow and crippled. Uncle Paul also plays hard. There is still of glint of mischief in his eyes that represents his wonderful sense of humor and love of laughter. Lookout! He has not lost the ability to tease!
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