For those of us who grew up as farm kids, the land itself becomes part of our family, not just an address or point on a map, but a living breathing piece of us. The emotions connected to her might not be of only happy times but the harder emotions of sadness, anger, or fear, which makes our connection all the deeper. I will never forget the day that my father and I renozzled a pivot when the corn was already over my head. I have never been so hot in my life. Or the hours spent scaling the Little Blue creek banks cutting musk thistle, battling mosquitoes, nettles, and my brother. If you grew up farming, or on a particular piece of land, you inevitably wonder about those who came before you to that piece of heaven or hell. Whether they were related to you or not, there is a connection you share through the land.
There is a depression in a pasture where I grew up, and the story was always that it was a dug out, left by the person who homesteaded that tract. Who was he though? When I started writing the biography of this land I discovered the homesteaders, George and Richard Spicknall, and was able to download their homestead packets. A little online search and I found a picture of him in his Union Army uniform. All of a sudden, that slight depression had a face to go with it, and a story.