Rural Women ... Rural Stories

There is nothing better than growing up on a farm. We grew up on a farm, not a ranch. We milked cows for most of my growing up years and had horses. We always had horses. We did 4-H horse shows, competed in local rodeos, and rode with my dad to move cattle. We had fifteen to twenty horses all the time, and most Sundays, we would ride to my Grandma's.  My dad was a horse-trader. … [Read more...]

I grew up on a farm thirty miles south of Akron, CO. I had one younger sister. I had an older brother who died when he was six months old. He had a little cold, and my mom put him down for a nap. When she went in to check on him, he was gone. Maybe it was what they call crib death today. My mom didn’t know how to drive until my sister and I married. I guess my dad taught her. … [Read more...]

I was born in 1925 out south of town at my Uncle Steve’s house. The government tried to move men from the east to come out west and farm. They helped him get land and build a house. After his wife died, Steve convince my dad to come from Grinnell, Iowa, to live in the house. Dad had to agree to let Steve live with us until he died. So, we lived out there, and Steve lived with … [Read more...]

I remember many things about Grandma Goble. First of all, I thought she was mean, and I watched my behavior around her. She would speak gruff and scare me. She was kind too because she made all of her many grandkids popcorn balls for Christmas. She had Christmas dinners in a house packed with aunts, uncles, and cousins. The large living room with a table down the middle was … [Read more...]

As the third of three girls, I was supposed to be a boy. My dad lost a six-pack of beer on me. I heard about that for a long time, actually most of my life. I went to country school and had the same lady teacher for four years. We finally got a man teacher the last year the school was open. Our dad only took us to school on the first day. He would introduce himself and us … [Read more...]

My Grandma Johnson, née Bertha Hafstad, born in 1876, immigrated to Canada from Norway in 1908. I often wonder how she felt, waving her last goodbyes to family and friends on shore. She was thirty-two and still single. A Spinster, Old Maid. Had there been love lost? No prospects? As was common at that time, she came to perform domestic duties for her younger brother, John. I … [Read more...]

I was raised on a small farm/ranch one and one-half miles south of Kirk, CO. It is a very small town, and everybody was family. I joked I had to be careful not to marry my cousin. I had one older brother. Our farm had cattle and chickens. My brother helped dad with the milking, and my job was cleaning up the cream separator. We had chickens and mom would raise them for the … [Read more...]

Her name is Apryl. She and her husband own and operate a Bed and Breakfast. When we checked in, she wrapped her arms around me saying, “Come here, I’m a big hugger!” Within minutes I knew she was kind, friendly, a hard worker, and Mormon. We were the only guests, and breakfast was down a long narrow hallway and around the corner. Apryl and Tom were in the kitchen and had … [Read more...]

After a fun day of shopping and a new hairdo, and while having dinner, I asked my sister, Zella, to tell me another story, she paused, looked at me, and began: My life hasn’t been all that eventful lately unless you want to talk about the rehab center, and that’s over. I lived through it. She was in a rehabilitation facility after an ankle wound skin graft. Some days I … [Read more...]

My dad wanted a boy this time, and I came as a girl, but I always got along well with him. I could talk to him rather easily. I thought he understood me better, but the older I get, the more I can understand my Mother’s thoughts and actions. My sister listened better than I ever did. She was smarter than I was. I never liked school and never did well in school. I couldn’t wait … [Read more...]

I was a simple little country girl. My parents were conservative Baptists, and never even drank alcohol. We had a dairy farm and lived thirteen miles out of town, so I didn't get to be with my friends very often.  Even though I was an afterthought, I was daddy's favorite. He called me Sugar Plum Sunday. I had two older sisters and two older brothers. I was born on my oldest … [Read more...]

I had the honor of sharing an author table at the Loveland Public Library Local Author Showcase with a delightful, adorable, sweetheart. Her name was Pat, and she was 90 years old. She self-published her first book, Missing Pieces, A Memoir,  this year, 2017, and was immediately offered a book deal by a traditional publisher, PLUS, they want a sequel. I was more than … [Read more...]

Pat started her story with, “Since my daughter died, my life has been different.” After a pause she changed the topic: Having a very small family can be incredibly sad. When my dad died, I had this revelation that now nobody knows about my childhood. I was an only child, and when I asked my dad why they didn’t have other kids, he said he was afraid another child would kill … [Read more...]

I was born and raised in the small town of Oakland, Nebraska. It was 1250 population and hasn’t grown since then. I had two brothers: One ten years older and one seven years older. I was the first one to be born in a hospital. I was a nuisance to my brothers. They were mean to me, and I didn’t like them at all until I was grown. They said I was spoiled, and I probably was. I … [Read more...]

August 1982 Harvest was over. There were things to do, but nothing as hectic as June and July had been. Most days I had time to take a walk from the house to the Baseline Road (a half mile) then east on the Baseline another half mile and then back to the house. A leisurely two-mile walk. At least, most days it was leisurely. One afternoon I set out walking and talking to … [Read more...]