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 →

How to Save $5 on a Dozen Eggs

First, and this is key; you must declare, “I’ve always wanted chickens! Wouldn’t it be fun?” (Even if you just thought of it yesterday.) You imagine restoring the run-down coop in your farm yard and ask your husband, “Can you fix this coop for me?”  He is in the middle of seeding the spring crops,... 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 →

Knives in the Drawer

The forks clank as I drop them into the drawer, still hot from the dishwasher. With each bang, I think back to the email that unexpectedly dropped into my inbox yesterday. I opened the email and leaned over my granite countertop, my chin resting on my hand. It was from a writer I’ve been reading... Continue Reading →

Ten Ways to Stop Being a Writer

Open your computer to a blank Google Doc and then decide now is a good time to update all your photos. Google: What’s the best photo storage website to use? (But really. I need help with this. Amazon Photos is acting weird all of a sudden. Please comment below.)Read a few essays you wrote two... Continue Reading →

In Good Hands

I shivered, tucking my hands into the pockets of my brand new Carhartt coveralls. Just the year before, I wore dress pants and skirts and walked the halls as a high school counselor. My old life in the city was a world away from my new life on the farm. Now, cows mooed around me,... Continue Reading →

The Keeper of All the Things

My son, Rhett, is stuffing his feet into the wrong shoes when he asks me if I’m going to play football with him and his dad. I’m in the hallway on the way to my office, but I pause to look at him—the familiar knots in my stomach bubbling up. “I have a few things... Continue Reading →

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