I consider myself a farm girl.  From the age of 10 to the present, I have lived and breathed the farm life.  Before that, however, I was a city kid.  My summer days were filled with friends; bike riding, swimming, and walking to the local 7-11 with just enough change in our pockets for a Slurpy.

During my stint as a city kid, we did take biannual trips to the farm in Idaho where my father was raised.  We liked spending time on the farm.  We looked forward to catching toads, pulling carrots straight from the soil of Grandma’s garden, and REALLY seeing the stars.  Our days of dirt, fun, and frolic were followed by nights next to the open window, listening to the “chit, chit, chit” of the irrigation pipe in the nearby field.  I remember those nights very vividly, thinking on the adventures of the day.  Time on the farm was precious, and before we knew it, we’d all end up back in town falling asleep in our air conditioned houses, in our suburban neighborhoods.

Little did I know that within just a few years, this lullaby would be the background music to all of my summer slumbers and pulling carrots from Grandma’s garden would become a regular occurrence.

Last night as I lay in bed, pondering the events of the day, my attention was lulled away by the “chit, chit, chit” of the lullaby outside my open window.  I was instantly a child again, in the security of my grandma’s house, listening to the irrigation pipe accompanied by the chirping of the crickets and toads.  Time stood still….

Now, many of those things are gone – my Grandma’s house belongs to someone else, as does the family farm.  All of my grandparents have passed away and my parents are now the grandparents.  Even though there are times I long for the comfort of an air conditioned home, there is at least one time early every summer that I am grateful for the steadfast song that denotes the heritage that I will pass on to my children.  Time seems to change a lot of things, but with some things, time stands still.

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