Growing up years.

 These were idyllic years at school as well as at home. I had chores to do at home and didn't expect payment. Payment came in the form of a roof over my head, food on the table, a bed to sleep in and parents who loved me. School lasted for nine months and then the summer was mine. Of course I still had chores to do but I also spent endless hours riding horse back under Jug Handle Mountain. We had two horses for riding “Felt” and “Tricksy”. Felt was easier to catch and also smoother riding. Once I got the bridle on him, I led him to the closest corral fence and climbed from the fence onto his bare back. Now with one or more dogs trotting along side, I was ready to go after the cows for milking or maybe just ready to ride as I imagined myself an Indian free and wild. I headed out one of the many trails from our house that led to the meadows, the dry farm or the forest covered mountain behind our house. Shaped like the handle on a jug this mountain was dubbed Jug Handle and loomed over Valley County’s east side. I explored the trails, sometimes checking on our small herd of sheep or the range cattle. I didn't wear a helmet or a watch but my internal clock seemed to know when I better start for home or maybe it was my stomach signaling that it was time for a meal. There were no lessons, no organized sports, no play dates. I learned to entertain myself and the word bored was not in my vocabulary.

I loved attending Wood Grove where young and old alike learned together, played together and took care of each other. But our country was changing and ideas about education were about to change as well. The small country schools found it more difficult to recruit and keep good teachers. Four different teachers were hired in the five years I attended Wood Grove and consolidation of schools seemed to be the answer. My years ended at Wood Grove after 7th grade.