The WNIJ Perspective In the winter, the barn doors stick. It’s as though the ground grows up and grabs the bottoms, but it’s the sun melting snow on the roof…
A few weeks ago the farm came alive again with men working. Bruce looked at the barn, paint chipping off every time it rained, and said he didn’t want to…
It’s been a long harvest this year, with crops around here not dry enough to pull out of the field when we had our dry spell. Unless you’re making silage,…
1. I miss the pet rooster in the barn at night. I’d walk in there and he’d be roosting on the wrong hay bale. I mean a bale I was…
A couple weeks ago, the farm came alive with men at work. It’s not every week we have two different crews working our land at once. Beaux our hay guy,…
I wake up listening for the rejected rooster. We leave the barn doors open at night because it’s been hot and I want ventilation for the horses. He likes to…
She died last night–the hen I found two weeks ago tucked into the grass after a brutal hard rain and wind. She was out on the other side of our…
One summer we harvested a gorgeous crop of grass hay. We counted 334 bales, a year’s supply but I told a friend I’d sell her some if there was extra….
Whenever I crawl under the afghan Bruce’s grandmother knitted, I feel her love wrapping around me, a firm, warm hug, though I never met her. Perhaps she prayed for me,…
I walk the dogs down the road first thing. The moon hugs earth shine, the sun an orange glow on the horizon, the sky smoky, stars fading. I’m not much…