Monday, November 30, 2015

Johnny, who so easily could have turned a blind eye to this wounded soul, instead determined he would take the freshman under his wing.

The year in the life of a farmer has always felt a bit like the hard climb to a summit, alone, without the benefit of a team of cohorts helping with the challenging ascent.

From square dancing to singing, Christmas was a time for tradition.

One of my happiest holiday memories is now fading for me, but it is still there in an old movie-reel, lovely sort of way.

There is no venue more inviting for a gaggle of girls than a big old farm with a constantly changing cast of characters.

With the re-setting of the clocks to standard time comes a darkness that plays right in to the hand of the changing calendar.

While many in the 1950s and ‘60s were drawn to take a turn as a wild west cowboy, many of my memories involve ‘playing house,’ my older sisters telling me what to do and say.

When you're looking for dad, ask your farm boy.

It is well past time to put away the simple clothing of summer and early fall and reach for the gloves and hats and down-filled coats.

Hunting season was a special time of year.