Bakersfield.com

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Every few years I get the chance to make a trip back home.  It's funny how small things bring back all the great memories of childhood and stir your soul.  No telling how many times I went past this windmill on the way to town.  Riding with my grandpa in his red and white Ford pickup with the clear plastic seat covers.  A few years later it would have been with my many friends on the yellow school bus or that old ford LTD with my parents on the way to church Sunday morning.  When my brother and I hit double digits we passed it many times sneaking to town the back way in the pale yellow 78 ford pickup as we made our way to the local John Deere dealer for tractor parts. Then came high school,  first with the motorcycles so we could avoid the school bus and then with the Monte Carlo Super Sport to cruise main street on Saturday nights trying to impress the girls.  Every trip to town we passed that old windmill. 

     If you slowed down a little bit you would see the jack rabbits with a few feet on the edge of the road.   You also came to appreciate the beauty of the sun breaking through the clouds late in the day while a cool breeze blew through before a storm.  Rustling the corn leaves bringing the smell of rain through the open windows.  Growing up in a small town where everyone knew who your parents where and what they expected of their kids.  Each picture brings back fond memories of growing up.  Time spent with family and friends.  My dad teaching us to put in an honest days work on our farm. Long days in a tractor harvesting crops.   Little lessons learned every day.  What do you remember?  What stirs those memories in you?