Both Can Be True

“Dad, you’re never home!” My son, Rhett, cries, burying his face in his hands. Then he throws himself on the kitchen floor. “You’re never here at dinner, and I just want to be with you!” I glance out the kitchen window, the sky is still dark, but there’s a hint of red on the horizon.... Continue Reading →

On Being a Farm Mom During Harvest

“She’s probably the last little one we’ll have at harvest,” my father-in-law said, looking at Nora in her car seat. She smiled at me, her cheeks covered in chocolate, leftover from dinner in the field. I could tell from a distance that her hands were still sticky. The last eight years have been full of... Continue Reading →

The Long Days of Harvest

I’m tired. And I know the crew is too. I hate how easily I snap at the kids at this point of harvest.In the brief moments when Rich is home, all three kids climb all over him, clambering for his attention. I usually stand in the background, watching. Partly because I love seeing how much... Continue Reading →

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