My grandfather was born today in 1917. In the late 1950's he found a 45 acre farm (above) which at the time seemed "way out in the boonies" but now is surrounded by sprawling Suburbia. He always said it was because of mom's horses that he even considered buying a farm, and for that he was grateful because he loved his farm. Most summer evenings you could see him on the tractor, wearing his pith helmet, pulling the bush-hog to make us new bridle paths. Once, a neighbor told me that she thought my grandfather made the most beautiful network of trails. That was the architect in him. Here (below) is our farm in the 1980's, with my grandparents on the tennis court and our two horses turned out.
Today I worked on the very same trails as my grandfather did many years ago. He passed away in 1990 and our trails haven't been the same. I don't have a bush-hog - only a saw and some trimmers. Still, it was like working in his shadow, especially today on his birthday. I have to look for that pith helmet.