My recent column about surviving our childhoods of the 1950s and 1960s prompted several letters and comments from people who said they could surely relate to the sentiment!

Ah, March. It is a month that has long brought us such a seemingly unending array of weather here in this part of the country and this year has certainly been no exception.
For us, on this patch of the planet in Ohio, we had just finished shoveling out of an early March snowstorm when the […]

For those of you who are linked to the Internet and receive e-mail regularly, I’m sure you have seen the rather tongue-in-cheek commentary questioning our survival of the 1950s and 1960s.
It touches on the fact that we all certainly slept in cribs that had been painted with lead-based paint, rode our bikes without helmets, played […]

In the dead of winter, I dream deep dreams of swimming. As the thermometer sits precisely on zero this morning on our farm, I just awoke from a blissful night of dreaming, snuggled down in my cozy warm bed, topped with a down comforter.

Standing at the fence, enjoying a rare day of sunshine in January here on our farm, I watched our dog Channing circling the pasture in a sweeping motion and wondered what she was up to now.

A house may sometimes be more than just a home, but a tangible part of history. The house in which

One man’s junk really is someone else’s treasure. I thought of my sister the very first time I heard that statement.

Life on dairy farms in the 1970s proved to be a very good time, indeed. I was too young to know it, but I recall the feeling that things were going well.

Not all gifts come wrapped in ribbons and bows. There is no gift like peace of mind for those who are embattled and bone-tired.

If there were a way I could grant a Christmas gift to each and every Farm and Dairy reader this holiday season, it would be a copy of Roger Welsch’s book on relationships.