Have you ever longed to revisit a magical place from an earlier time? As a grown-up do you yearn to walk around, smell, touch and re-experience such an area with your adult senses: to reexperience the enchantment this place once offered you?
I ached to walk back into the enchantment of the past. Recently, I visited such a place of cherished memories––a charming animal farm. I had lived there originally with my parents, sister, and brother so many decades ago. I walked up the lane and found a farm that was wholly changed by the years that have passed. But nothing has altered my memories. This was the place that brought magic into my little sister, Anne Marie’s, life. It was the ideal place for a little girl to grow up who suffered from birth defects.
The farm existed on a wedge shape property bound on one side by a lane and a state road on the other. The lane separated the farm from the rest of the owner’s estate. Both were owned by a woman who was a direct descendent of Cornelius Vanderbilt. On the lane of this magical place, there used to be a white sign with red letters that said, IRADELL FARM. I want to tell you the story of Iradell, as I remember it then. . .
There once was a little girl, Anne Marie, who moved to Iradell when she was about three. Her father had gotten a job as a superintendent for a wealthy woman, Mrs. Earl, and remained with her for twenty years. Her hobby was collecting animals and creating this unique small farm. During the time the girl lived there, she was hospitalized twice for extended periods of time. You see, she was never able to walk. She also had other medical issues. So, Iradell was such a delightful place for her to come home to. The owner particularly liked miniature animals as well as exotic ones.
Much about the farm was on a mini scale. It looked like something out of a child’s picture book. The red buildings with white trim were small and fitting for the storybook nature of the farm. There was a second sign on the lane. It had black letters on a red background, and it said, BEWARE OF LOW LEAPING KANGAROOS. Kangaroos? Well, even though Anne Marie never saw one herself, she didn’t doubt they had lived there at one time. And, she was right.
The first night the girl’s older sister, Jane, slept in the charming red brick house she was awakened by something flying over her head. A bat! It was as if the bat, a sign of good luck in some cultures, had arrived to initiate her into this unique animal world.
To the side of the brick house and across the driveway, there was a small barn with window boxes that overflowed with bright flowers in the spring, summer, and fall. Small Dexter cows lived there along with a regular milk cow. Several garages were attached to the barn. One garage housed “The Princess,” a Rolls Royce that belonged to the owner’s husband. Nearby was a hen house where exotic chickens were kept. There were Polish chickens with large plumes on their heads and black and white speckled chickens. There were peacocks and funny-looking runner geese.
Maggie and Marty were miniature horses who pranced around the field adjacent to the barn. The miniature African Pygmy goats and Toggenburg goats also shared a field and the barn. A male Toggenburg goat, similar to the biggest boy goat from the Billy Goat Gruff story, was so smelly he had to be housed across the main road. There he had his own building next to the vegetable garden. The littlest of the pygmy goats was the girl’s favorite. She delighted in the fact that the little goat is the one who outwits the troll who wants to eat the three brothers in the story. Anne Marie, who was tiny for her age, always had compassion for the underdog.
Just up the lane was a small barn that held the donkey carts that Anne Marie so enjoyed. The carts were hand-carved in Sicily. Most were painted in multiple, bright colors. Hanging on the inside walls were an assortment of festive harnesses with colored pompoms and bells. Just beyond the cart building was a white fence that formed a ring. It was a miniature racetrack. Like a regular one, on one side of the ring was a miniature grandstand. It even had a little roof because it was a replica of a real racetrack grandstand. The girl often brought apples for the donkeys to eat out of her hand. She was very careful of her little fingers when she gave the treat to a donkey. She knew that once one of those Sicilian donkeys began to close its jaw, it could not release until it bit all the way down!
Often the girl’s father would hitch a donkey up to a cart and the little girl would get a chance to ride around. Sometimes a favorite little boyfriend would ride with her. Anne Marie’s big sister and mother sometimes felt sad about the ways her life was limited by her physical disabilities. But, the farm seemed, to the family, to exert a magical influence on her life. Watching her from the grandstand, her mother and sister delighted in seeing her happily trotting around the ring, reigns in hand, pulled in a cart by the donkey.
Anne Marie loved babies of all sorts. Her father would bring out baby donkeys for the little girl to pet. The little ones would soon have funny-looking hair falling between their big ears. There were small calves and goats for her to get to know and enjoy. She even rode on the miniature horse, Maggie, from time to time. Her father sometimes brought a young African pygmy goat into the house. He would lift her onto the sofa so she could hold the sweet baby goat.
Some of the animals seemed to have powers beyond our expectations. For instance, there was Bruno, the beloved brown French poodle who was able to open doors! He seemed to know just how to deal with helping the injured to heal. One time he picked up a white cat that had been run over on the road. He knew just where to bring the cat for urgent care. Anne Marie’s father met Bruno at the back door of the house, and he drove the cat to the animal hospital. It soon recovered.
A few years went by. The owner’s husband died. By the time Anne Marie was in high school, the enchanting farm had been sold. The animals, as well as the donkey carts and paraphernalia, were given away. Anne Marie and her family moved up the road to a house on the remaining estate. Although Anne Marie missed the animals, she was growing up. Fueled by adolescent enthusiasm––and the lingering spark of enchantment––she was musing about future adventures. She dreamed about college, marriage, a family, and, of course, happy endings spun from her wildest imagination.
So, there I stood on the land that once held a joyous place from an earlier time. But the lovely brick house we lived in was no longer. The barn and the other buildings had also been torn down. The small barn that held the carts, as well as the white ring and the miniature grandstand, existed no more. Weeds and brambles are the only things that thrive in this once enchanted space. I felt a profound sadness. A piece of enchantment had left the world. The magic of Iradell Farm, the rare, miniature, and exotic animal farm, was now a place that exists only in my memory.
My heart is yearning for some magic. Yes, what the world needs now is enchantment, energy that brings hope and healing. This is why I was called back to Iradell. I realize that rather than losing hope, I can ask, “What can I do to shift the energy?” An answer comes to me. I have my memories. I have these wonderful memories to sustain me through dark times. It was I who was happy, who felt the magic and enchantment. My memories remind me that happy times have not disappeared. They are there to be re-discovered. That is the magic of memory.
This is cross-posted from Jane Knox’s blog The Ageless Goddess.
