Until the age of 5 my family and I lived on my grandpa’s farm in Forest Grove. We lived up on a hillside near the Forest Grove and Gales Creek boundary. My grandpa was a filbert farmer, who owned a lovely piece of land with a view. The home we lived in was surrounded by filberts, and my grandparents home was below us through the orchard. When I wanted to visit my grandparents my mom would call my grandma to inform her that she was sending me down. Through the orchard I would run to the waiting arms of my grandma. Even though I was told not to run, I always did. My grandma learned to keep some bandages with her at the bottom of the hill, just in case they were needed.
The impact of living on that farm the first 5 years of my life was huge. It basically is what I long for even today. My grandma always had a flower garden. It was fenced in and had rows of different kinds of flowers just like a large vegetable garden has rows of vegetables. As you walked from the flower garden to the house there were tomato plants in pots. They were spaced just perfectly so that when you were done eating your cherry tomato the next pot would be there for you to pick another. My grandma had grapes and berries, and canned everything she could. I loved eating at her house, because that meant I got to go down into the cellar with her and pick some homemade jelly or maybe some pickles to serve with dinner.
When I think of my dream house I always see a flower garden like she had at that farm, and cherry tomatoes in pots. I also dream of canning lots of produce, and having a fabulous pantry.
Every once in a while I get the urge to drive up the hill to look at the old place. Years ago my grandparents sold that farm in favor of buying another one on flat land. Both of our houses have now been removed and replaced with nice new large ones, but I can still drive up the road and enjoy the view that I use to take for granted. The view is so breathtaking, I can’t believe I ever was able to live at such a lovely place.
View of Forest Grove From My Childhood Home
The other place I like to stop by when I drive up there is Hillside Bible Church. This was the first church I ever attended. The church bell always rang on Sunday morning, welcoming everyone to church, and I have a feeling it still does.