Tag Archives: farm

A Perfect Day for Picking Apples

It was another perfect day on the farm. My husband Jim, and my children, Andy and Janie, were gone for the day, and I was planning to wallpaper one of the back bedrooms in our 100 year old house.

But just then, I remembered that Lorne, our carpenter, was coming by to finish some plastering downstairs. And Oh, yes, someone called about picking some apples, from the two overladen trees in our front orchard. Hopefully, they would bring their own containers—I didn’t want to be disturbed, no matter what. read more

Old Faithful On The Farm

It was just another day on the farm. Well, it wasn’t really a farm, we were just pretending it was. The chickens were safely in their yard, the dog was with the kids, and the air was filled with the sound of rustling leaves. So far, everything was going fine. My husband left early this morning, he had a staff meeting, Andy was back from Kindergarten, and now he and Janie were playing outside.

It was October, and our fourth month here. But I wasn’t really counting—only once in a while, when things went wrong. Here, it seemed, it was always one step forward and two steps back. read more

A Visit at the Farm

happenings-with-title-boldExcept for the cat, the kitchen was empty when Norma arrived downstairs, following the whiff of coffee that drifted up to her room. It was such a luxury to have her mother do things for her, she thought, as she lifted the pot and poured herself a generous cup.

And Katya! She reached for the cat on its fridge-top perch and tugged her off, sticking her nose into her deep winter-pile coat. “Mmmm, mmm!” she was still cuddling her when her mother appeared through the mud room door, her coat undone and her boots unzipped. read more

When Chickens Ruled the Roost

chickens

Janie holding her pet chicken

We had a flock of chickens once. I grew up on a farm, so I thought I knew all about chickens. I remember my mother ordering them and having them shipped special delivery to our general store. She thought about her order carefully; Rhode Island Reds were the hardiest, Leghorns laid the most eggs, Plymouth Rock were the most dependable. They had to be balanced, so that we would have eggs all year. When my father brought them home, there were at least one hundred chicks crowded together in a box with holes in the sides. My sisters and I were allowed to gently pick some of them up and stroke them for a few seconds. read more