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Long after my grandparents had left the farm I went back to the crumbling remains of their beautiful farmhouse. This fence was the edge of the yard passed the garden, the hen house and the tire swing. This pond was where I was taught to fish after shooing the Herefords away. It's so all alone and melancoly now; no grandparents, no hens, no Herefords. I don't know about the fish. I drove away.