Peter’s family owns a farm a few hours from us. Since Oma and Opa were in town we thought we would visit. That’s the farm up there, in the right corner surrounded by trees.

I spent the first 30 years of my life in Southern California. My idea of a farm usually involves a little fruit stand or cute animals. But this farm grows just two things: Corn and soy. America’s major crops. If a field grew corn last year, this year it grows soy and vice versa. They store their goods in large silos and wait for them to dry out, and for the market to be just right.

This farm was owned by my kids great, great, grandparents. German immigrants that got one of the best pieces of land a farmer could hope for. The soil is amazing. Pete’s other side of the family have a farm too, also in Illinois, but it’s soil is not as good. It makes a big difference.

That’s not to say this farm didn’t have a few animals on it. The younger cousins have projects too, which include ducks that will NOT be eaten, yet they do not have a plan for what they will do when they grow up. An impulse purchase you don’t see much in the city:

And a hen house of 24 chickens for eggs:

They like to peck feet.

But the best part were the tractors.

How many kids get to play with little tractors and then go out with dad on the real thing?

That’s Ero and Pete on the back tractor there. They went on many, many tractors all day. They did not however go on the Couch-Mobile.

That arm is Oma getting out of the way. One person has to steer the Couch-Mobile, and another person does the throttle. It goes very fast.

We also picked berries, and the family even left the pepperoni out of the pasta salad for the vegetarian from California.

There was something so natural about the kids here.

They were so comfortable.

I understand why people move off the grid.