The farm was our play land. Its barn was surely near to God's heart because of all of His creatures it cradled. For me it was almost a holy place with its filtered light illuminating dancing dust motes and swallows nesting in its rafters. The milking machine kept rhythm as Grandpa moved quietly about his labors while his grandchildren played. At night it seemed the stars shone brighter over the barn then anywhere else in my universe.
Christmas Lullaby - Doc Watson