Canada

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As promised, I dug out this old photo of my sister and me standing in front of my favorite fence, the very same style that I see in Williamsburg and always stop to snap a picture in front of. I love those classic split-rail fences... each glimpse throws me back in time! 

This photo was taken in 1967, back in the days of old-school film cameras when the date was stamped right onto the corner of the picture....smart!! Our photos today don't give us any time clues, more proof that things don't always improve with time! 

The fence marked the road leading to my great-aunt and great-uncle's farm in Canada, a place that holds some of my happiest childhood memories. We visited whenever we could, and every trip felt like an adventure and late summer visits meant the wild blueberries would be ripe and ready for picking. There would be a large bin of blueberries in the kitchen and handfuls would be snuck every time we passed by. 

My great-aunt and great-uncle spoke only French, while us American kids spoke only English, so conversations often turned into a hilarious game of hand gestures, smiles, and laughter. Somehow we always managed to understand one another, proving that kindness really is a universal language.

Their farm was enormous, but even more impressive was their family. They had nineteen children, yes, nineteen! It seems almost impossible by today's standards. Back then, though, children were an important part of keeping a family farm running. The boys worked alongside their father in the fields, while the girls helped care for the house, prepared meals, and looked after the younger children. Everyone had responsibilities, and everyone contributed.

Their four-bedroom farmhouse somehow held the entire family. Only the oldest child had a bedroom of their own, and even that room was passed down to the next oldest sibling whenever someone married or moved out. The other bedrooms looked more like barracks, with rows of beds and bureaus lining each wall. Privacy was scarce, but love and laughter were plentiful.

What amazes me most, looking back, is how joyful everyone seemed. The older children would come home to visit, cousins would arrive from all over Canada, and our little family from America would be welcomed as though we'd never left. The gatherings were enormous with just the immediate family, and adding four more American kids barely seemed to make a difference. What's another four mouths to feed when you're already cooking for dozens?

Although we had relatives scattered throughout Canada, the farm was always where we seemed to gather. It was the heart of the family.

To this day, whenever I see a fence like the one in this photograph, I'm instantly transported back to those dusty country roads leading to the farm. I can almost smell the fresh-cut hay, hear the mixture of English and French conversations floating through the yard, and picture the long tables filled with homemade food while everyone pitched in to help. There was always something happening, always someone to visit with, and never a shortage of adventure.

Those were simple times, but sometimes the simplest moments leave us with the richest memories. Maybe that's why that old Williamsburg-style fence has always felt so familiar, it reminds me of a place where family came first, everyone belonged, and love never needed a common language....I may need to plan a visit to Canada, see if my old fence is still standing and introduce Tim to a couple dozen crazy Canadians. 

"Nothing is ever really lost to us as long as we remember it." ~ L. M. Montgomery