No, this isn't a scene from Field of Dreams before the field was created. It's the view from the backyard at Joanie and Papa's place a.k.a. The Farmie.
Joanie and Papa are my inlaws, parents to Dan and his four sibs, grandparents to many, and all around good Minnesota Lutherans of German and Noreweigan descent. This house was owned by Dan's grandmother Irene, and Papa grew up here. It's about an hour south of the Twin Cities from where we city slickers live, and it's simply a study in bucolic wonder.
Everywhere you look you find something interesting buried amid the farm junk. Like this:
Or this, which is decidedly not buried:
Now I'm no Pioneer Woman, but I think everyone should also have a chance at least once in their lifetime to play in a cornfield, even if it is just feed corn.
And everyone should also witness a beer-totin' partially-trained farm dog in action:
The farm is definitely a place where we relax and unwind on unseasonably cool August days:
And last but not least, it's where we wrangle chickens:
Sorry, Cole. The answer as to whether or not you can have a chicken for a pet is still a sound 'no.'