Post 7: The Land, the Tower, and the Passing of Time

 

The farm is 18 acres, split into two main sections—east and west.

At one point, even the town’s water tower stood on this land. Eventually, my father sold one acre to Madison County so they could officially own the ground beneath it.

That’s how time works in places like this. Lines shift. Ownership changes in small ways. Pieces get carved out, repurposed, formalized.

But the core remains.

For decades, the same man has rented this land for pasture. He rented it from my grandfather. Then from my father. Now from me.

Three generations of us. One continuous thread.

The cows don’t know any of that. The land doesn’t care about names or titles. But there is something steady in that continuity. Something that says not everything resets when a life ends.

Some things just… continue.

Quietly.

This is post seven of a multi part series, reflections on the farm owned by my father and my grandfather. This is written for me and my siblings.