My family arrived at Westfalcon Farm just after noon – the sun was shining, a slight breeze was blowing across the open fields, but not hard enough to turn Mr. Squeaky (the 103-yr. old windmill that my children named), and temperatures were holding steady at 70F. The day had come
On The Farm
Welcome to life on the farm: Where every memory is a treasured tale. Join our family journey as we share heartwarming stories, time-honored recipes, and rich historical narratives passed down through generations. Gather ’round as we invite you to experience the joys, challenges, and abundance of rural living.
Thank YOU!: A Discover Feature, an Anniversary, and a Nomination
Yesterday marked the one year anniversary of my blog, Unbound Roots. I received a nice little message from WordPress, the content management system I use to run my blog. It read: Happy Anniversary with WordPress.com! You registered on WordPress.com one year ago. Thanks for flying with us. Keep up the
An Easter Gift: The Ukrainian Gift Shop Experience
“I can’t wait to go to the egg store tomorrow!” my son exclaimed as he glanced at his calendar before settling into bed. “Mom, can we read Rechenka’s Eggs one more time before we go to the egg shop?” my daughter asked. “Of course.” I replied. “Climb on up on
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“There’s An Opossum In The Chicken Coop!”
“Mom, Ayla was going after what looked like a chicken in our driveway.” my daughter explained as I was cleaning up the kitchen. It was 12:35am (yes, we are a late-night family), and my husband had just let the dogs out before bedtime. “Did the chicken coop get closed up
To: Dad
“I love him.” My son replied after I asked him what came to mind when I said “Grandpa Peterson”. “I do too, buddy.” Last November I wrote about my desire to write about two very important people in my life – my mother and my father. I wrote a post
The Daily Post Weekly Photo Challenge: The Weathered Farm
Think of the things this farm has seen, the many people it has known, the storms the farm has weathered.
Christmas Memories: A Doll For Grandma
Porcelain-white skin, lips tinted rose, eyes painted with exquisite detail. What would her hair look like? Long blonde locks that brush her ankles, two auburn-colored braids that playfully hang down from each side of her ball cap, or raven-black ringlets that delicately frame her face – I could only guess.
Tradition: A Swedish Cranberry Dessert
Thanksgiving on the Farm As my family and I sat down at the table to celebrate Thanksgiving, I felt a warmth wash over me as I gazed around the room. Here we were, sitting around the table as a family on the farm that my Swedish ancestors homesteaded in 1884,
Happy Birthday, Mom: Thank You for Being You
Since beginning my writing journey, I’ve wanted to write about two important people in my life – my parents. Today is my mom’s birthday, so what better time to tell you about this special woman. Mom, thank you for being you – this post is for you! Last evening
Community: The Fellowship of the 1920’s to the Ghost Towns of Today
This period between 1923 and the early thirties seems to me was the end of a rich community fellowship, the parties, and the ball teams of which each community had one… It was the end too of meetings at Larson’s Hall and these neighborhood times have never come back. ~