There was an old couple who lived along old Route 27, about fifty miles outside of the capital city. The husband had spent his whole life there, and and it was a full, long life, with him approaching eighty-five years of age. His wife had been by his side for sixty-five years, and she was a devoted wife and helpmate with the chores around the farm. The farm had been in the family for many generations, and, in fact, the couple only had family legends as to how many hundreds of years the farm might have been in the family. The original farm had tremendous land holdings, and, in fact, at one time the farm was reported to be the single biggest tract of land owned by one family in this section of the country. The surrounding farm land had dwindled in size in recent generations, as it was harder to make a living through farming, with some family members losing interest in farming and moving on to other locations and employment, and with farm expenses skyrocketing, parcels had been leased to other farmers, or sold outright, by the last three generations to help meet basic expenses, and keep the operation manageable by the family that stayed to farm.
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