I was born and raised in a tiny village, consisting of about 15 houses situated on a ridge above the school house. Here I spent every day of my first 12 years, climbing and running, strolling and roaming the farm land, meadows and forests. I had a happy childhood.
This is the gate I climbed every day – or, this might be a newer one, but it still looks the same to me… There are huge stones in the meadow above, and we used to bring buns and milk to feast on when we had finished climbing and settled on top of the highest one. To us they were mountains – but in reality, boulders from the ice age, left here when the ice moved away.
In this house lived the grandmother of my best friend at school, and her grandson (my friend’s elder brother). A small farm I loved to walk up to every day. My own grandmother’s house was just 5 minutes down the road.Maybe you remember I posted before on this barn, the cats and a duck behind the yellow door. My childhood friend’s brother still lives here, but the farm animals are not that many anymore. He always keeps his ”Grålle” tractor (Ferguson) in excellent shape.They used to have sheep, pigs, geese, hens, rabbits, cats and dogs. There’s only two sheep left, a duck and … loads of cats. Being a farmer is a tough life, so it has got to be a ”living your dream” scenario. It takes All of you to manage and make it thrive.But the two sheep seemed happy in their golden meadow, and the farmer – well, he was just like I remembered him from younger days. I will return a sunny day in spring so we can climb some stones again. That would be just great.
Leya 
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