Dilapidated farmhouse holds memories of a rustic youth

It’s a handsome Québécois farmhouse and it stands beside what was once called the King’s Highway. It has been part of my life since its heyday as the nerve centre of a thriving farm. It was there that, starting at about age 10, I got my first taste of farm life: gingerly scattering handfuls of grain for the chickens clustered by my feet.