Writing 101, Day Eleven: Size Matters
Today, tell us about the home you lived in when you were twelve. For your twist, pay attention to — and vary — your sentence lengths.
1967 – My eighth home: Dennert’s Road, Hamilton.
I’m not counting the times our family has lived with grandparents, nor the times we had to go to relatives during mum’s pregnancies – sometimes she would be so sick she couldn’t look after us. I’m only counting the homes I can remember. Although I do not have any photographs from 1967, we still lived at Walker’s Farm in 1970 when dad gave me an old Box Brownie camera.
I couldn’t help myself. I had to do a full story and photographs again. For this long version, you will need to go to this page from the About Me menu. I’m a bit annoyed, as I have a full front-on photo somewhere, but can’t lay my hands on it just now.
It was a typical farm-house. That’s it on the far right of the photo. A front and back veranda.

Taken half way along our short cut across the paddock to catch the school bus.
now you are making me think Christine, your home was certainly in the wide open spaces …
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I’ve lived in farm land most of my life Christine. Growing up in rented farm houses, then 17 years married to a farmer. And now I live right on the edge of town, with farm land behind us. I would hate to live right in a town, hemmed in on all sides with houses. 🙂
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much of my childhood was spent living on the edge of a country town, with fields full of cows thistles and mushrooms behind us, where I could walk barefooted to visit Great Uncle Sam and his wife … 🙂
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It was a bit of an adventure playing in a paddock full of thistles. I remember chasing one of my little brothers through one once. He was smaller and I couldn’t catch him because I have a harder job to stop being spiked. It was wall to wall thistles and we ran along the sheep tracks. Ahh, mushrooms. Even the mushrooms these days aren’t as good. They get attacked by insects before they even get out of the ground. The good old day, glad to know we have something more in common than our name Christine. 😀
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gosh, you are right, i followed the cow tracks through the thistles! i can picture them clearly now!
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The joys of memory are so precious Christine. How nice to be able to share them.
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Kayti, my biggest fear is forgetting too much. I want to share while I can. 🙂
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As you may already be realizing, the more you write, the more you will remember. I speak from experience (grin).
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