Life on the Frog Farm

Who can say they grew up on a Frog Farm?

I guess my siblings can, but their memories aren't as clear.

I've been thinking about writing about my grandparents farm.
About what I learned there, about frogs and life and stuff.
They didn't just raise frogs, they also raised chickens, and crickets and worms to feed the frogs and chickens too.

And they raised me.

Summer was the best time, because we got to go to the Frog Farm for days and days.
One time I spent the whole summer there.
All by myself.
No sibs, no parents, just me and the grandfolks and the frogs, for two whole months!
I was 11, I think, maybe 10.
Between the time when my Dad died and my Stepdad left.
Between childhood and responsibity.

Magic!

I mention it now because I am there again, in my heart.

After Uncle Stuart died last month my cousin asked me if there was anything of Stuart's that I wanted.
All his things were with her, because he'd moved there to die, and he did , 5 weeks after he got there.

Kelly - Is there anything you want? Anything you need from his things?
Buggy - Oh, there is one thing ... but I am sure that everyone else wants it.
Kelly - What? Tell me, no one else has asked for anything yet.
Buggy- The painting of the Farm? Does he still have that? You know, he and I, we loved that place like nowhere else on earth.
Kelly- It's here! You want it, it's yours!
Buggy- OMG! Really? I alwas loved it!
Kelly - Yes! I'll be in Texas next month, I'll bring it to you.
Buggy- Are you sure?
Kelly - Of course! It's yours.

I have it now , the painting.
There is no artist signature on it, it's just an oil painting of an old farmhouse in the desert with a barn off to the left, and mountains behind. A simple raw wood frame, not a masterpiece to anyone else.
I love it.
I loved that house, I loved that place.
I think my uncle would be happy that I have it, because I love it so. I think he knew that he and I loved that place the most.
The Frog Farm, was my favorite place on earth. Still.

The best days of my childhood were spent there.
It was sold years ago, I hear it's a vineyard now.
I probably wouldn't know it if I saw it. The frogs are gone for sure, and probably the house too.

But now I have it in oil, that moment in time and memory, when it was perfectly the perfect place.
That time and place when my grandparents raised frogs in a desert, when I rode a horse that was really a bike, when I was the only kid , for the best summer of my life.

They are all gone now, everyone who loved the Farm, all gone, except me.

I think maybe I should write about the Farm.
Who else grew up on a Frog Farm?
Only me.