My grandpa and grandma weren’t really farmers, but they had a small parcel of land at the back of their property with a few animals, which ran into dense woodland, which they harvested for fuel.
When I was in my formative years I was sent to stay with my grandparents for a few days while my mom and dad had an anniversary break.
I loved staying with them because they were always so mild and easy going;
I could get away with murder compared with my home environment. Or so I thought.
The other really neat thing about staying with grandpa and grandma was helping with feeding the animals, collecting the eggs their chickens left all about the place.
I was indulged and very happy for those initial few days.
The one thing which was forbidden was to go into the woods.