Walking in fields with cows
March is usually a miserable prick of a month in Missouri. The wind! It never ends. It presses against the windows with the fists of invisible…
March is usually a miserable prick of a month in Missouri. The wind! It never ends. It presses against the windows with the fists of invisible…
Miss Pax is a skeptic of container vegetable gardens. Can you tell? She probably inherited it from me. I have no justifiable excuse for this. There’s…
Last Christmas, or maybe the Christmas before that, I gave a copy of Dog Songs by Mary Oliver to a friend of mine who devotes her…
I’ve been exiled. Jon says he needs my old garden plot for hay-making this season. To be honest, I don’t mind the relocation. The last garden…
When Jon is gone I allow the dog into bed, though he never believes me. I don’t do it for her; she doesn’t care. She sleeps…
Context: We have a farm but we don’t live on it. The one house there is full of snakes and looks haunted. So instead, we live…
All summer long, Jon has been talking about moving our camping trailer out to the center of the farm for us to stay. I’ll be honest…
There are some days when the best company you get is your dog, and there’s nothing shameful in that at all.
Pax is the most graceless border collie I’ve ever known. She stumbles, she falls. I’ve seen her slip through cattle guards and staircases. When I first…
“Green was the silence, wet was the light, the month of June trembled like a butterfly.” — Pablo Neruda Jon came back from Baja a day…
writer | photographer
Pursing holiness with constantly dirty feet ~ Wild Hare Farm, Thurston County, WA
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