The smell of harvest, the cool breeze blowing across my face, and the taste of sweet homemade treats are just three things that make me love my grandparents’ house. Pulling on to the rough gravel road after three tiresome hours in the car brought me so much joy as an eager child, and it continues to do so every single time. My grandparents have lived five miles outside of peaceful, quaint Hallock, Minnesota for the past thirty-five years. My siblings and I would always be squirming in our seat when we found out we were close to “Gramma Farm’s” house.
I didn’t realize it when I was little, but my grandparents loving, welcoming, and tender household would become my second home for years to come.
The feeling of love as you pull in the driveway is evident. My grandma is standing on the porch as we park the car, and their dog runs up to greet us with slobbery licks.
My grandpa walks from the shop back to the house to say hi, no matter if he has a ton of work to do or not. We bring all of our bags down in the entryway, and my grandpa offers to help us out every time. Each person is offered a tasty treat as we sit down to talk about what each person has been up to. Every person is welcomed and cared for whether they are family, boyfriends, girlfriends, or just a friend who you brought along. By this point, all of my stress is gone.
![](https://paperap.com/wp-content/themes/theme/img-rh/star.svg")
4.7 (657)
“ Really polite, and a great writer! Task done as described and better, responded to all my questions promptly too! ”
The calm tone of voice of my grandparents and the stillness of the countryside puts me into a soothing mood.
For the past thirty-five years, my grandparents have been hard-working farmers. They are the most determined people I have ever met, and they never finish a job until it is perfect. It is rare to pull in on a summer day and not hear the rumble of a truck or see the cloud of dust of a tractor just leaving the yard. When I was little, I couldn’t sit still except when I could sit in a big green combine. Watching the rows and rows of wheat go through the combine amazed me. Mesmerized by the wheat getting cut and watching it go into the hopper; I couldn’t keep my eyes off of it. My grandma would pack me a lunch that always tasted so delicious, and I would go sit in the tractor with my grandpa for hours. The grain dust makes me sneeze, but I still love the smell. These memories will stick with me forever, and it just added to the atmosphere that I loved as a child.
I struggle to think of my grandparent’s house and not think of food. No one can make tasty, delicious, homemade buns like my grandma. The warm bun with a little bit of butter spread on the inside makes my heart warm. My grandma always claimed to not be a good cook, but the food she makes is classic rich food that my mother doesn’t make. If my grandma doesn’t have classic chocolate chip cookies on the counter when you walked in, there was always some in the freezer or she was baking them. Nothing can compare to the smell when you walk in tired from snowmobiling and playing outside like fresh baked cookies. If I got to eat that delectable food every single day of the week, I would weigh four hundred pounds, but it would be worth it. The only way to describe the smell of my grandparent’s home is baked cookies or baked buns. Every person needs to try one of her mouthwatering homemade buns.
After having a snack, my next activity at the farm is usually driving four-wheeler. The wind blew through my hair as I flew through a pile of leaves. If any car were to drive by, they could be able to see in my face how relaxed and free I felt. The warm engine by my legs and the loud sound of the four-wheeler were two things I looked forward to when I visited my grandparents, and I still do. The three four-wheelers are always parked in the barn anxiously waiting for someone to ride them across the trails through the woods. At the young age of six, my grandpa taught me how to drive a four-wheeler. Although it probably wasn’t his smartest decision, I fell in love. This made it possible for me to drive through the trails like my older siblings always got to. Exploring those woods is indescribable. My childhood was spent cutting down those trees, finding wild raspberries, and sometimes just walking through for pure enjoyment. Something about nature makes a person realize how simple life really is. I still love to go into the woods and either ride through them or just simply walk in silence.
Although I spend a lot of time outside enjoying life at my grandparent’s house, the intense card games at night are a family favorite. Our family argues and gets competitive around a kitchen table over a game that doesn’t matter. This sounds familiar to many people, and this is exactly how games go with my family. My sister and I walk into the living room to convince my parents and brother to play with us which sometimes works, and other times doesn’t. We get everyone to sit around the kitchen table with the large windows in the back, which show the starry night sky. My grandparents always let us grandchildren pick the games, and we play for hours. The constant laughter and joy in the house is impossible not to notice. My grandma always tries to convince us to gang up against my grandpa, but he is too sweet to do that to. These times bring out the hilarious sides of my grandparents.
The distinctive sounds, feelings, tastes, and sights are what makes my grandparents house my second home. The quiet sounds of the woods remind me that my problems are nothing compared to the rest of the world. Driving four-wheeler is always a fun activity, whether it is by myself, or as our whole family. I wish that everyone could taste some of my grandma’s home cooking because it is simply delicious. As a child, I loved having grandparents who were farmers, and I think that is where my love for their home started. Not everyone is lucky enough to have grandparents as loving as mine, and I wouldn’t trade the memories I have made, and the ones I will make, for anything.
Grammas House The Smell Of The Harvest. (2021, Dec 17). Retrieved from https://paperap.com/grammas-house-the-smell-of-the-harvest/
