What the Land Teaches
By Diana Kauffman-Cockrell
Photos by Shari Hart
When I was a kid, my family’s farm near Filer in southern Idaho was a magical place, where anything could happen.
We had parts and pieces of things all over the place—we could make forts, dig for queen ants, play with electricity (hot wire and hose pipe tricks), skip rocks, climb haystacks—you get the idea. What I didn’t know until I left was that growing up on a farm and being part of the operation was the best gift I ever could have received. I learned how to work hard, strategize, be creative, find a way no matter what, have a sense of humor, and have fun while I worked. I learned by heart every song played on the AM station in ten years. I knew when it was okay to make do and when it was important to get it right. I understood the laws of electricity (those fences), and learned that life and death happen to us all, and in choosing to fill the time we do have, we must choose quality. I learned how to grow things, lots of things, and the calming effects of working in dirt, and the ability to just be, and that with imagination there really is always a way—you just can’t quit, or it won’t be found.