It's the land of red dirt, red pick-up trucks and red barbecue sauce.
It has been family land since 1793 or 94. Its three hundred acres are shaded by tall pines, scrub oaks and old pecans. It has seen its share of cotton, corn and watermelons and now is home to quail, pheasant and deer.
There have always been things to do at the farm whether for a day or a week . This year the family reunion there was only a little different. Now there is a lovely covered pavilion and a pretty fancy skeet range. (I found my aim at the clay pigeon to be better with the camera than the gun.) The "hayride" minus the hay but with cushy seats is pulled by a tractor. There is a new coat of paint on the old house and horses and new puppies at the barn. The children played and got muddy in a welcome rain, the teenagers rambled on golf carts and on foot, the twenty somethings had their own agenda, the older folks did a little of everything and sometimes age didn't matter. Maybe it wasn't that different.
Some would say there is a special feeling about a place with red dirt. Perhaps so. There is evidence that the family's ancestors moved through five states, stopping along the way to establish homesteads where ever there was land with red earth, tall pines and scrub oaks. Whatever it is, these acres welcome this family home.
Most of the people who were there on Sunday remember names only as far back as Ma Belle and Daddy Henry, the grandparents of the senior members of the group. We are counting the days now until next week's arrival of another Belle (or Henry) who will continue the tradition of hugging cousins, eating good food and catching up on family news "at The Farm."