Bullard Road

Within two miles of one farm, a lifetime of stories unfolded.

In 1891, Kurt Bullard's great-grandfather bought forty acres east of Elkhart, Indiana. A log cabin stood on the property, and a dirt road led to the farm. Over time, neighbors began calling it Bullard Road.

From that small stretch of countryside comes a lifetime of stories about the people who lived, worked, and crossed paths within two miles of the farm.

There are barns built by earlier generations, chicken houses that once held thousands of birds, and a haymow that turned into a full basketball court where players from across the county came to compete. There are small-town restaurants where farmers gathered for breakfast, neighbors whose lives unfolded in unexpected ways, and fields where arrowheads still appear after a hard rain.

Some stories are funny. Some are rough. Many things could only happen in a rural community where everyone knows each other, and every piece of land has a history.

These memories move outward from the farm and circle the surrounding countryside, because around Bullard Road, the land and the people cannot really be separated.

And like most country stories, the farther you go down the road, the more you realize the ending is really where the story began.