I wanted to write something profound, funny, pithy, and wise to explain my long absence from this blog. Unfortunately, I’m not having a profound, funny, pithy, or wise season. I’m simply feeling old and grumpy. It’s like this — twenty years ago I didn’t need glasses to read the copyright notice at the bottom corner
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Fresh peaches from a nearby orchard . . . . . . and sweet ripe blackberries, picked from a neighbor’s garden patch are this summer’s consolation prizes. We’ve very little to harvest in our own gardens now. The few plants left in the greenhouse are providing enough tomatoes and Melrose peppers for snacks. Tiny cucumbers have appeared
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The lack of updates here at The Land of Moo might lead one to believe I’ve been wallowing in grief over the demise of my beloved old Blue. Not so. He is missed, of course, but we’re pragmatic here on the farm about such things. Life’s circle continues. There are hatchlings to be nurtured, pregnancies
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On rare mornings a mist spills evenly across the land to soften the sun’s rays. On these mornings, the heavy dew would soak you to the waist if you wandered across that ungrazed pasture. In the stillness, you hear the familiar sounds of birds twittering from hidden perches — meadowlarks, red-winged blackbirds, an indigo bunting. Cows moo in the
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Disposing of old, rusty barbed wire can be a problem. If you have an old farm with weathered fences and decades-old wire, it’s something that must be figured out. Yard art wouldn’t have been my first thought, but who am I to criticize someone who had the patience and fortitude to create this big ball
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A sunny day after so much rain, after so many gray days, is a gift that shouldn’t be wasted. A dozen chores awaited, but so did the sunshine. There were skies to watch, clouds to study, reflections to ponder. So I played hooky for a while in the back pasture. I watched feathers and leaves float
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Mother Nature apparently thinks we haven’t had enough rain lately, so she sent us more. Day two of the driveway flooding scoured knee-deep holes. Another night-time storm brought more flash flooding. This time the big garden was well swept, and floodwaters gushed into the greenhouse through an open door. About half the potted seedlings are salvageable, though some are pretty battered. Flats
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I spent last weekend at one of the houses where I raised my children. And although I moved the most important bits and pieces I’m attached to when I moved to the farm, there are a few more things I wish could have taken with me. I really miss this clothesline. The Genius Husband built
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It’s a day to celebrate mothers and grandmothers and those who’ve simply mothered us even though they weren’t the ones who brought us into this world. I think, too, that it’s a good day to recall the joys that come to those of us who play that role in one way or another. Here at the
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Sometimes the view out the truck window seems a little off kilter. Other times, it’s so enticing I’m tempted to park the truck by the ditch, slip through the fence, and walk over the hill just to see what’s on the other side. There could be more wildflowers, a picturesque lake, or . . .
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