This past weekend, we went on a road trip.  This was the first time that I brought my children back to see the house that I first lived in.  It had been over 22 years since I had visited rural New Jersey; a lot had changed.  My best friend’s dairy farm was long gone and the corn fields that we would run through were now filled with large homes.  We took a drive up to see my old house.  It looked so different.  I expected it would, as so much time had passed.  Small trees were now giants.  Memories came flooding back.  As we continued up the road, there was an organic farm with a  farm stand.  Somethings had changed for the worse and some for the better.

I felt on this trip that I came full circle.  I had forgotten a lot about my early childhood years after living in Los Angeles for almost 15 years.  As I returned to the car after snapping up these photos, my husband said to me, “I can understand now, why you wanted to raise chickens.”  I thought about it for a minute.  He was right.  I suddenly had a better understanding too.  Farming experiences from my early childhood must have made a stronger impression on my character than I had ever realized.  Coming “home” suddenly made sense.