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Thursday, July 19, 2018 2:12 PM
We have been learning to farm with old farm machinery. What seems new to us is still well over 40 years old. Some of our equipment is red, some is blue and some is green. Those who understand know that each color has its own following, but we seem to follow whatever old machine that we can find for the task at hand.
  • Thursday, July 19, 2018 2:12 PM
    We have been learning to farm with old farm machinery. What seems new to us is still well over 40 years old. Some of our equipment is red, some is blue and some is green. Those who understand know that each color has its own following, but we seem to follow whatever old machine that we can find for the task at hand.
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  • Thursday, July 12, 2018 12:43 PM
    Even as a child, living in the heart of the city, I understood the concept of a weed. Weeds were things that grew where they were not supposed to grow, green things that were trying to find a foothold between the slabs of sidewalk cement, unwanted sprouts in our flowering window boxes, things that needed to be removed.
    0 comment(s)

  • Wednesday, July 4, 2018 5:19 AM
    We have been at the creek for the past 15 years. Sometimes, it feels as though this is the only place we have ever known as home. The seasons and sounds are as familiar as our breath. Our daily chores keep time with the sunrise and sunset, and at the end of each day we settle in, thankful for the comfortable rhythm of our creek valley life.
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  • Friday, June 29, 2018 5:21 AM
    So, the weather is what it is, and the crops will do what they do, and I am thankful for today’s easily waged weed war, even if my tan is still fading.
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  • Wednesday, June 20, 2018 3:04 PM
    Today it was amazingly hot at the creek. There was not even the slightest breath of air, and the parched ground actually felt hot under the soles of my shoes. I remembered back to the hot city sidewalks of my childhood.
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  • Thursday, June 14, 2018 9:05 AM
    Without any doubt, our dream really did come true, but I must confess that as we sit on the new front porch and look out across the creek valley, we cannot see the chickens, or pigeons, or goats. The little cabin blocks our view. It is nice to see the little cabin and think of all the memories it holds, but I really do miss the view beyond.
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  • Friday, June 8, 2018 1:02 AM
    I do not know what became of my father’s ducks. Quite likely he gave them to a child who happened to visit or to a friend who had a particularly adored grandchild, for I do know that he found great joy in giving things to folks who appreciated whatever it was that he had to give. I also remember when I told him that Greg and I now had ducks at our farm, that he beamed with real joy, “Remember, Christine, to always keep your ducks in a row.”
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  • Wednesday, May 30, 2018 3:27 PM
    This is that time of year when it seems that the multiflora roses literally cascade down along the edges of the creek valley road and fields, their white blossoms everywhere.
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  • Thursday, May 24, 2018 7:43 AM
    As I write, I look over across the driveway to the little cabin. One of the dogs is sleeping on the front porch. I suppose that it will take them some time to get used to living in the lap of spacious luxury, too.
    1 comment(s)

  • Friday, May 18, 2018 1:51 AM
    We have built many steel-roofed buildings on the farm over the past 15 years and cleared a pasture and then lined it with wire fencing. We have brought home what now seem like countless pieces of old farm equipment, all of which Greg has reworked into top-notch running machines, though some still sport a fine rust-colored patina.
    1 comment(s)

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