Letters to the Editor


| August 1998



One of the things I recall about farm life was that we never took pictures of anything except people! It was called a 'waste' of film to make a picture of animals or machinery. That is a shame, as I look at it now.

I am looking forward to the first edition of Farm Collector, and I hope to contribute some of my stories. I might even find a picture or two!

Opal C. Blylock, Bartlett, Tenn. 

THE SOUND OF THE WINDMILL

I'm 52 years old now, and have always lived in the city -- well, small towns -- but my heart has always been in the country. Special times in my life were when my Grandpa (William Luehring) would take me and my cousin to his farm just south of Washington, Kan.

Grandpa had two workhorses named Bill and Sugar. I'll never forget how big and beautiful those two great horses were, and Grandpa loved them both.

I can still hear the sound of the windmill running in the wind; there's no sound quite like it. Grandpa always wore his farming overalls, and kept a plug of Horseshoe tobacco in his pocket. And right under that pocket was a warm heart. Even though you could tell he had seen some hard times, he always wore a smile on his face.