I tried to relive my childhood today. And in parts I succeeded, but it is true that you can never go home again.
We drove out to what used to be my grandparent’s farm. My family used to go there for a month every summer. But that was back when my grandparent’s were alive. It has been twenty years since they owned the place, so I was expecting it to change. I just didn’t expect that much.
Where to begin? It’s no longer a place for horses. Two cows and three pigs call it home. What used to be guest houses are now self-contained homes. Scary attics have been transformed into fully furnished lit second stories. Three families now live there. The stables are gone and have been replaced with a party room. The corral is a memory. Many of the fruit trees are gone or moved. No more red currants. But the place is so much more open. Pastures fenced in for horses are now lawns for people to use. They are growing grapes for wine. The grassy courtyard is laid with cobblestone now. There is a pond stocked with carp and crayfish (helped paid for by the EU.)
It is almost totally different from what I remember. But these owners have put a lot of work into it and made a beautiful home.
After reminiscing over lost childhood, we proceeded to another old haunt. There is a forest nearby where we used to go horseback riding. I have great memories of that too. My uncle rode a bike while I jogged around.
It is beautifully green still, even this late in the season. The beech trees stand tall and imposing.
There was the swimming hold where I spent happy times. The swinging rope was still there. More likely a descendant. Across the way was an island. Long ago I had swam out to it with some others and totally terrified my mother while doing so. The lake is dark, you can’t see the muddy bottom, and the lilypads actually make it creepy.
Continuing on, we got to the other entrance, which was a small village. I remember walking around the roads of that village and seeing miniature horses. I didn’t expect that they would still be there, but right at the entrance there was a pasture with a pair. Different place, but same result.
Back to the forest, we came upon the tombs. When I last saw them they had been fenced up, but now they were open again. My mother called them viking tombs, but they were actually neolithic burial grounds. The mound still sounded hollow.
The next stretch I was looking forward to. I remember it as long and dark. It totally scared me as a child. Unfortunately, it looks like a lot of trees have been culled, because it was light and sunny.
I could easily have spent all day in the forest, trying to find all the old trails I used to horseback ride. But the sun doesn’t shine forever and I can still feel the occasional twinge from my ankle.