Words on farming, gardening, walks in the woods, the quiet practice of journaling, and the history hidden in everyday things.
Reflecting on the year, I can confidently say it has been a fruitful one for my gardening endeavors.
The original idea of a wildflower garden came to us a few years ago when a small strip of lawn next to the driveway volunteered itself.
Haying consumed most of the summer at the farm. Acreage that would take a man all summer to hay in yesteryears takes a few short days in today's world of farming.
Over the years, I’ve learned a thing or two about going into the woods to harvest a wild tree.
February was the season for cutting firewood on our farm. My father had a yellow John Deere bulldozer with a front blade. We called the imposing earthmover that crept along slowly on steel tracks through almost any terrain “The Crawler.”