Our Yearly Pilgrimage to Carl Sandburg's Farm Connemara

Sometimes I think that Carl Sandburg and I are having mirrored lives. He grew up in the Chicago area and moved to Western North Carolina when he was older. I did the opposite. You know we are both writers by trade, he won two Pulitzer prizes and I have so far have won none. So yes, so much alike! But seriously, I am a big fan of his work so it makes it that much more of a privilege to visit. If you have never read Rootabaga Stories to your kids, I suggest finding a copy. My kids are a bit young to grasp them, but they love the nonsensical verse anyway.

His farm is ten minutes from the house I grew up in. I used to go there a lot, especially when I was older, and run the many trails for exercise. I was a trail runner - never enjoyed running around a track very much. It was very therapeutic, especially in my "Where am I going? What am I going to do?" years. Even now I can picture those trails - every tree root, every rock - in my head. That place is forever burned in my brain.

It's exciting to be able to share that joy with my children now. Besides it being a National Park, they have turned his home into a museum and tour, the barns and milking houses are perfectly preserved like they haven't aged a day and the goats and chickens that run around are descendants of the prize winning animals that Mrs. Sandburg raised herself. You get a sense of really feeling what it was like to live there back in the day. I think they would have been pleased with the results.

Playing with the baby goats

Hanging out with Nina

Every year we get a picture with the vegetable garden scarecrow to measure growth and change.

L's turn.

The chickens and rooster were very patient and forgiving with L's little fingers.

Eagerly waiting for the mommy goats to feed the babies.