The Spiker Farm

I have so many fond memories of the farm it is hard to narrow them down. But here goes.

I remember being in the kitchen making angel food cake with Grandma and Marjory when we mixed the batter BY HAND! I still think of Grandma when I smell and make angel food cake with a mixer.

I helped Grandpa and Dad bring in the “shocks” of hay to the haystack on horseback. And the hay rides to the barn to store the hay. Oh, and feeding the baby lambs with Grandma. Then watching Uncle Lynn shear them later.

All those family get-togethers and picnics with hikes in the woods lead by Dad, Uncle Lynn or Uncle Bob, swinging into and swimming in the river, and fishing under the bridge. All with whomever wanted to join.

We stayed at the farm during the summer after Mom went back to teaching. One night I screamed for Dad and Mom that someone was outside the bedroom window. It was several little raccoons that had climbed the big tree by the porch to get to the second floor window.

One summer I invited several friends to visit – I did that often. In the night we heard a terrible screeching – it sounded like a frightened crying baby. We each took turns getting up and going to the bathroom. The next day Earl Flesher told us it was a bob cat.

I remember wallpapering the house walls with Dad and Mom. We ran out of paper in the parlor and hid the rest of the wall with the wooden glass-doored bookcase that stood in the parlor until the most recent flood.

That brings me to this past weekend when, again, I am helping put a “new décor” to the farmhouse with Mike, my sons, Brad and Brock, and Mike’s children, Drew and Alison. Mike was giving the directives – like Dad – and the rest of us followed them, usually. A little fishing at the pond, swinging on the porch swing, four-wheeling, walking up the road, and sleeping in the hammock sometimes got in the way of work!