It’s often assumed that I grew up on a farm but actually I grew up in a subdivision surrounded by houses on every side. I think I was born with an affinity for living on a farm though and I probably inherited that from my mom’s parents. They had a little 5 acre farm where my grandfather raised goats, a garden where they grew most of their produce for the year, pear and apple trees, a little creek that ran through their property where I’d collect crawdaddies (crawfish as most people know them), seemed they always had at least one cow and he always had 5 or 6 Beagles. Running rabbits, as he called it, was a favorite past time even though it did not meet my approval. I remember having "talks", or more like lectures, with his dogs and telling them they absolutely could not/should not harm any bunnies. There were times when they had chickens and the occasional pig but my grandfather had a fondness in particular to goats. I spent nearly every weekend there and most days during summer vacation preferring that to staying home and playing with all the kids in the neighborhood. I’d call my granddaddy and ask if I could come over and even though my mom would say “They may have other things to do today” his answer was always the same – “Sure little buddy!” I was his corn shucking, bean shelling, tomato picking, dog feeding, goat herding buddy and I loved every minute of it. My grandfather passed away in 1997 but I know he’d be right at home here (and sometimes I think he is) on Wolf Skin Road helping me collect all the pecans that have made their way to the ground.