Sometimes life is full of amazing little surprises, though it takes a bit of looking to find the best ones. For those of you who have read my column for many years, you might recall that my family endured a house fire in the winter of 2000.
It will soon be two years ago that my husband was injured in a car accident when a woman ran a stop sign and turned his full-size truck completely around in the road, fracturing a vertebrae in his mid-back.
Each day we wander the Vermont woods for an hour or two. I love the leave-taking, the sound of the goats’ bells. Herding is a way of doing something while doing nothing; it asks only for one’s presence, awake, watching animals and earth. Wind rakes the trees. Clouds float shadows through the grass. – By […]
After my recent Farm and Dairy column in which I dreamed of joining Diane, Peggy, Kathy and Janet as the fifth singing Lennon Sister, I received more comments and compliments than I’ve had in a very long time.
I was in the early grades when we started studying the states, and I was offended that the brightly colored symbols on the state of Ohio carried crops and general livestock, but dairy wasn’t given top billing. Since we lived our lives around milking times every day of the year, I somehow thought that defined […]
At the ripe old age of 8, I decided I wanted to be one of the Lennon sisters.
By JUDITH SUTHERLAND Farm and Dairy columnist When the sunshine warms the golden curls of the golden boy, there is a halo of blessing that burns brightly for those who share the journey. There is nothing quite like the joy of having a sweet little 1-year-old on your lap, rocking him to sleep after a […]
“He was a success because he studied the business with great care and was able to give a logical reason for everything he did. It was his profound belief that every farmer should improve his land and leave it in better condition than when he found it.” — Rachel Peden, writing of an ancestor in […]
If Emerson had not lived and died in the 1800s, I would have sworn he was writing his success credo about Bill Cameron. Cameron takes the very first one of these points and lives it full-tilt.
(Editor’s note: With a busy season and remodeling projects under way, guest columnist and fainting goat Ms. O’Malley is taking a turn filling in for Judith Sutherland this week.) My name is O’Malley. I would like to start this story with, “when I was just a kid…” but that would be too easy. I was […]
“We are each feeling quite alone and low now. For what is a home without a mother?” — Alexander Smalley, 1894 Part III The next best thing to a diary has proven to be a series of annual ledger books kept by my paternal grandmother, given to me by my father. Record keeping The fragile […]
The regret of never having had the opportunity to meet my paternal grandmother has always been with me, but the sense of loss has become stronger as I have grown older.
“My mother was deeply conscientious, hopeful, loyal. The land on our farm was beautiful, full of adventure, beckoning. The life there must sometimes, though, have been a heartache to the woman who had the responsibility of feeding, doctoring, inspiring and disciplining a family of nine plus the resident hired men, and all without any of […]
Must the jury in a murder trial be exposed to public scrutiny, each individual named and questioned by the media? Until one has stood in the shoes of a juror, it seems harsh to demand that spotlight be shined on each of them.
Life is full of surprises, each one a chapter in the book that spices up a life. For me, one of the greatest surprises of the year was my son being asked to photograph a June wedding in Big Sky, Mont. Better yet that he was healthy and strong enough to happily accept the job. […]
Mooreland, Indiana, was paradise for a child — my old friend Rose and I have often said so — small, flat, entirely knowable. When I say it was small I mean the population was three hundred people. I cannot stress this enough. People approach me to say they, too, grew up in small towns and […]
While moving my little herd of fainting goats from their pen in the old bank barn, my pair of English Shepherds decided they would help me with the job. I had Blossom on a lead rope, easily moseying along, curious to see where I was taking her. She had her eye on the big pasture ahead, and the rest of my goats followed along like the herd animals they are.
All of his adult life, 32-year-old Randy has been working toward the goal of owning a farm. He and his wife bought 32 acres and built their house, hoping to later sell that land and buy his old family farm back with whatever profit they could gain.
A connection to a plot of ground is difficult to explain to others who have never experienced it, but for a dyed-in-the-wool farm kid, it needs no explanation.
Everyone has a story to tell, and once in awhile you meet someone who carries that story with such reverence that it serves as a simmering pot in which the foundation to reach a goal grows stronger with each passing year.