Monday, December 5, 2016

We often feel nostalgic and take time for reflection at holiday time. I hope you'll take some time for this poem.

In these very troubled times - national troubles, global troubles, financial troubles, violence troubles, climate and weather troubles, energy troubles, war troubles, strike troubles, health troubles, ad infinitum - there are many families who will surely have trouble being thankful this Thanksgiving Day.

Writer Sue Hubbell, a fiercely independent beekeeper who makes her living all alone on her land in the Ozarks, had to be convinced that she had a memoir worth writing.

Despite Thanksgiving's late November arrival, neither we nor the neighbors of the southern Illinois farm of my youth were done with harvest by the harvest holiday.

It's tough to eat right in the average American home these days. Although most of us know we should balance meals consuming more from the fruit and vegetable groups than all the rest combined, it's a tough task to accomplish.

Benefits for farm employees vary tremendously from farm to farm and frequently take the place of some wages that might normally be paid to employees in a nonfarm position.

One day last week, the noise caught my attention. I pulled on my jacket to ward off the chilly wind and walked toward the barn bank.

In the science of agronomy, no more sacred ground exists than that of the Morrow Plots, a hemmed-in acre in the middle of the University of Illinois campus that, since 1876, has been under continuous corn production.

It was Larry, not Jimmy, Page that was mobbed when he left the stage in San Francisco earlier this year.

There is a common misconception among amateur parents and people who have never raised children (but curiously always seem to know an awful lot about how other people should raise theirs) that boys and girls behave differently due only to parental programming and societal propaganda.
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