Thursday, October 27, 2016

Last night, I did some serious farming. Santa Claus had brought me a silo filled with farm animals and fencing and it had not yet been opened.

If urban sprawl consumes two acres of America's finite farmland every minute, should Congress, through the 2007 farm bill, address farmland protection? If one out of three Americans is either overweight or obese, should the $57 billion the U.

Having two children less than two years apart teaches a person a lot about parenting. The problem is that the "students" will be too bone tired for the first six years to remember a single bit of it.

An author and writing teacher recent posted a short online blog entry called, "Four Things You Need to Become a Writer.

I presided for the first time at a Women's Club meeting and a few of the girls (I'll call us girls even though we're all over 50) had to leave early.

One of the great advantages of growing up on a large farm is the thrill of being surrounded by all of God's creatures.

As the roaring combine sawed through 30 feet of soybeans at a fast-walk pace last October, a farming friend, through the convenience of his cell phone, sold 160 acres of still-standing corn for a couple or three nickels over $3 per bushel upon harvest.

Apparently, my children are attending spy school. That is the only explanation for why I, the consummate prying parent, am so completely in the dark about what it is they DO all day.

It just doesn't seem possible that so much water could fall from the sky, day after day after day. But it does.

A college friend once noted that everyone is missing one word from their personal vocabulary. "My missing word is modesty," he pronounced.
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