Pint Sized Adventurers
Run. Run. Run. Not out of fear but out of the frustration growing from disappointment and sadness. Run to something better. Run from something painful.
The idea of going to a better place when things weren’t going well, began at a young age for me. My father Darwin worked for Ralston Purina company selling grain and agricultural supplies to farmers during my earliest years. Due to demands from management behind the red and white check square, Ralston Purina’s company logo, Darwin moved our family from Williamstown, Vermont to Bernardston, Massachusetts when I was about three years old. I wasn’t aware of what was happening when my parents packed up our little A-frame home that was located next door to my grandparents’ white house. The family farm where my mother was raised.
Even at three years old, I had several things that I already enjoyed on the hillside in Williamstown. We lived in a two-story A-frame house. The sloping roof was windowless but provided fun nooks to crawl into. Some bedrooms were above the kitchen and bathroom and a narrow, wooden staircase led up to the second floor. There was the Old Henry Road, a dirt road little more than one lane wide beside the A-frame. It’s paved now and the A-frame was replaced years ago, so don’t bother looking for them. The dirt road extended back into the woods past other rural farm houses. Beside that road there were moss covered…
