Wednesday, May 15, 2024

I know this is a column about life and all the funny little things that can happen when living it. I hope you generally enjoy it.

I received the following essay, which was attributed to comedian George Carlin, but it turns out he had nothing to do with the piece.

As the leaves start turning and the nights get colder, our usual crops of orchardgrass, ryegrass and alfalfa begin to winterize.

(NOTE: Below is the second of a two columns on a now-collapsing, multimillion-dollar farmer-owned cooperative.

Have you ever noticed how weeds come and go over the years? I recall the summer of the battle of Queen Anne's Lace.

ATVs. We love them, use them on our farms and occasionally do a little joy riding. But they're also the enemy, for in the hands of a trespasser, they often tear up crops and fields and woodlots.

Decisions! Decisions! Which of more than a dozen jottings gets the lead paragraph for this column? And suddenly, Mother Nature makes the decision with a dazzling offering on the sunny last day of summer as a friend and I admired the just-mowed pasture.

I am the mother I warned myself about. In all those blissful early years of having children (babies, really), I had big plans to do very little.

My voice echoed in my daughter's half-empty room when I called out to Mark, "Yes, I think we've packed everything.

NOTE: Below is the first of a two columns on a now-collapsing, multimillion-dollar farmer-owned cooperative.