Stone Cold

I sat down at the bar at Hunter Gather alone.  It’s warm and dark, the kind of place strangers talk. A few other farmers, craftsmen, tradesmen types were always there at 4 p.m.  One time I was telling some guy a story. I’d explained how my farm is an hour out of town and that…

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A Mist of Tiny Leaves and All the Greens of Spring

Call it acid green or April-fresh or lime-jello-fake-green. This time of year spring greens catch my eye and soul to remind me that the life force is too strong to contain. Ryegrass or dandelion leaves, those dreaded yellow-green catkins pushing out pollen, that powerful color fades as spring turns into summer.  Heat makes most leaves…

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Southern Peat Bogs, Old Men and A New Farm Ethic

Sitting in a rocking chair, a tiny plate of deviled eggs in his football player lap, I guessed he was about 75.  He was almost a stranger yet immediately familiar. He had my father’s brogue, my uncle’s nose, and this family’s skills of storytelling, “Did you know Daddy used to run a peat company down…

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Holding Our Breath…..A Tree of Winter Flowers

   Fat buds of Prunus mume wait for the warmer days of winter. Starting around the turn of the year, I eagerly wait for both buds and warmth. Every cold gray day the bulging buds stand out, puffed up like they’re holding their breath along with me. We’re all waiting.     Then one lovely day the sun…

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Shadow & Light in The Garden

She made a point of coming by the garden twice a year to see what the old man loved.  She smiles at our secret jargon, Ben and I used only Latin names. No questions, no suspicion just eyes that said, I’m happy ‘cause yall are happy.

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