During his childhood, my husband loved going to the Shawano County Fair. He and his family enjoyed this special time of year.

The fair was something they were attracted to. The cow barns, the farm exhibits — corn stalks and cobs, soybeans, and samples of alfalfa — resonated with their farm identity.

Certain years hold life’s memories and experiences that find a place deep in our souls. Recollections may be warm and sweet. Others could be heart-wrenching.

During our farming years, we’d raised Holsteins, Black Angus, chickens (upon occasion) and pigs, and along the way held company with a few cherished dogs and cats. Never ever did we have a horse on the farm.

Until the other day.

One day a while back, my husband was hauling gravel to fill in ruts on a path in our woods. We use this path to reach our sap lines, and the deluge of rain that came down a while ago did a number on it. He was in the woods with the tractor, trailer and skidder making all kinds of racket.

A notice on one of his trail cameras popped in. Stopping to glance at his phone, he wondered what it had taken a picture of. It made his jaw drop.

For over 20 years I’d had a nice little doable raspberry patch on the farm. It was ever-bearing and in turn, produced raspberries early summer and again in the fall, until a heavy frost put them to sleep for the winter.

Running errands around Shawano, I noticed a little light had popped up on my car’s dashboard. I was gun-shy, as just a few weeks earlier another little light had appeared — that one much more serious than this one.

This light was one I could decipher easily. A tire was low. Reasoning with myself, I figured I could probably make it home and have my husband pump it up with our air compressor.