Saturday, April 20, 2024

In the run-up to the Nov. 7 election, any candidate worth a baby-kissing pucker instantly, enthusiastically and repeatedly took the ethanol pledge.

Ever since the summer day that Channing arrived on our farm, things have seemed a little brighter around here.

It very well could have been a dream. It is one of those rare bluebird days of late October with splintered sunshine and cobalt blue skies and colored leaves dancing in the wind.

Look, I don't want to frighten anyone but it should be noted that the chills and thrills of Halloween have not, in fact, been put behind us.

I think it was the moment that the other team was performing advanced calisthenics - deep squats, knee bends, push-ups - prior to the game while our team was happily engaged in an impromptu rendition of "the chicken dance," that I sized up the situation and came to one inescapable conclusion: we were going to get creamed.

Teary eyes glistened from the theater stage as the last performance ended. The cast, more than 50 teens from at least 19 schools, spent hours learning the book-thick music and lyrics of the school version of Les Miserables.

Ideal answer: Springing heifers ready to calve, walk into the milking herd and work. Sounds simple, but what does that really mean? Looking at a couple factors, we can start putting some numbers to "springing heifers ready to walk into the milking herd.

In a move somewhere between brilliantly audacious and unbelievably outrageous, Monsanto's Aug. 15 offer to buy Delta & Pine Land Co.

The final round of hay has been put up, and the colorful leaves have blown free from our majestic old trees.

I was at the checkout magazine rack, too cheap to buy, yet eager to learn how Angelina Jolie is going to balance celebrity, saving the world, motherhood and photo ops.