Of the many memories I have of Christmas on the farm, I don’t have a single memory of ever telling Santa what I wanted for Christmas.
Before the cheerless rush to abandon Washington, D.C. hits, here are a few suggestions for our hired hands in Congress on what they should not give farmers, ranchers and the rest of us in rural America this holiday season.
Even by its Olympic standards for hyperbole and hypocrisy, the performance of the U.S. Senate during the fruitless, pre-Thanksgiving farm bill debate was breathtaking.
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.
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.
If you tuned into the webcast debate of the Senate Ag Committee approving its long overdue 2007 farm bill Oct.
Before a months-long summer slips into a months-long winter, it’s time to use this week or two interlude – formerly called fall – to sweep my office.
As sure as the rooster crows every morning, someone will crow every farm bill year on how New Zealand’s 1984 elimination of government farm programs has brought a never-ending dawn to Kiwi farmers.
During a long-ago interview, the great grandson of a Kansas homesteader noted that only a handful of the 40 or so families who staked out farms with his family a century before remained after three years of disease, drought and death.
Maybe the unseasonably hot temperatures that blistered the Midwest most of September can be traced to global warming, solar flares or the high volume of hot air blowing westward from Washington.
(NOTE: Below is the second of a two columns on a now-collapsing, multimillion-dollar farmer-owned cooperative.
NOTE: Below is the first of a two columns on a now-collapsing, multimillion-dollar farmer-owned cooperative.
In response to a tidal wave of tainted imported food and consumer goods hitting America this summer, President George W.
In one episode of the 1970s television series M*A*S*H, an eminently paranoid Army intelligence officer tags flag-waving Frank Burns a Communist sympathizer because Burns subscribes to flag-waving Reader’s Digest.
In the summer’s waning warmth after Labor Day, my mother would order her child army into the big garden of my youth to gather the year’s final flush of vegetables.
In the down-is-up world of American biofuels, success carries enormous costs. The latest evidence of these costs is an amendment tucked into the House version of the 2007 farm bill: As Mexican granular sugar flows into the U.
Some of the sagest advice my father ever offered my brothers and me urged us not to “hit back at bullies” because, sooner or later, “They’ll get theirs.
Every August, about silage chopping time, my mind flits back to a burning question of my youth: Given the old fashioned way we made corn silage on that southern Illinois dairy farm, were we just poor or were we just cheap?
About 10 seconds after the Democrats reclaimed the House of Representatives last November, Collin Peterson, the Minnesotan who would lead the chamber’s Ag Committee come January, began to think about the 2007 farm bill.