Take me home, country roads

Not only did I grow up reading the Laura Ingalls Wilder books, my grandma used to tell me story upon story about living on the farm in Ohio as a kid. She would come to visit and I crawled into her bed every moning far too early. To keep me appeased until she had fully woken up she would tell me in great detail about the Coshocton farm.
One of my favorites was the rooster her sister Irene kept as a pet that was the dumbest rooster anyone had ever seen. He would run around in circles and no one could distract him from his path. One day, Irene couldn't find him until it was time to feed the pigs. He was so dumb he managed to drown himself in the slop bucket.
Then, there was the one where grandma had to go down to the milk house to get some butter. The house was dug into the side of a hill and a small stream ran through it, keeping the dairy products cool even in the summer. She was lollygagging around when a little garter snake slipped across her foot through the stream. Screaming, she spilled the milk into the water and ran back up to the house where on top of the trauma of the snake she got in trouble from her momma for wasting the milk.
The stories went on and on...going into town to wait at the railroad station for her dad to come home from his second job working on the trains. Grandma said the wheels on that train were so big that they scared her half to death but she would stand there on the podium, determined not to flinch so her daddy wouldn't think she was a scardy cat.
Hearing these tales for as long as I can remember has made me always want to live on a farm. Or, at the very least, to visit one. This weekend Liz made my dream come true by letting me stay on the Blashack farm for her sister's wedding. I played with the kittens, got licked by cows, chased turkeys with her baby cousin, drove a tractor, and still didn't get to everything I wanted to do. I will be going back. Soon. Until then, here are some pictures highlighting my dream come true.

Not sure if you can see the cow peeking out directly behind me but about 3 seconds after this picture was shot, my expression turned to total shock as she licked the back of my leg. I may have squealed a little bit...

Joy. Pure joy.

On my face here, however, is a mix between total terror and complete excitement. The bailing tractor started up a little faster than I expected. Mr. Blashack's only advice was, "Just don't hit my pick-up."
Next time I visit I fully expect to leave with a kitten. Maybe even this one. Soooooo precious.