We were always ready to go, after all, many of our cousins lived at the end of the ride. We usually stayed at the McKiel farm in Albion, Maine. It was the farm my grandparents owned for almost all of their married lives. Milking cows were the primary business and although my grandfather died when I was quite young, and the barns belonged to others, the smell of cows and their output are still a fond one for me.
The Albion Home of Harry & Elsie McKiel
On our trips "home" we also spent time at my mother's parents house. They too had a farm and raised milking cows, as well as growing hay. Their home had no cow smells nearby when I visited and I think my strongest memory is of my grandfathers rocker that had a swivel base and could spin around and around and around ... till some one told us to stop "for the ninth time!"
Here is my Mom in front the the Hannan Home in Palermo
The following is a picture of my grandfather Harry McKiel's cows the night before they were auctioned off when his health wouldn't allow him to continue farming (in about 1957). They are holsteins, known for their good dairy production.
We enjoyed our frequent trips to Maine for a long time. Till those dreaded teen years when all the other activities of our lives became so very important. I don't know what age it happened, but I distinctly remember feeling that my parents saying we were "going home" to Maine was incorrect. Home was Rhode Island and I didn't really like it that they thought otherwise. Thankfully, we all do grow up and I certainly understand how they felt about "home" now that I am an adult. My parents have told me some stories about their growing up adventures on a farm in Maine. I think I need to get more and document them better!!
Thanks for listening.