Blogs

“Put it on your Christmas list” may be one of the directives least liked by kids, followed closely by “Put it on your birthday list.” Too often, both birthdays and Christmas degrade into comparisons of who got the most loot. This is never good.

I have always enjoyed the look of mounted implements on old tractors. I am especially drawn to the look of a mounted corn picker. All the curves and lines of the sheet metal and the contrast of the white elevator against the rest of the IH red just looks great to me.

We finally had most of the calves weaned. As a matter of fact, on the late October day when we gathered the bulk of the cows to pull the calves, you couldn’t have asked for better weather. After a two-week stretch where we’d seen the temperatures dip into the teens, we were experiencing some unusually nice weather.

I have chickens on the living room wall. My husband is disgusted by chickens. “It’s a quilt,” I say, “Get over it. Why do you hate chickens so much?” I think his objection is “We are blessed” embroidered on the quilt next to the chicken fabric seems like an oxymoron.

Thanksgiving: It’s the only day deemed appropriate for bringing out larger plates, loosening your belt and gorging yourself like a 900-pound steer that recently discovered corn.

Way back when the world was still drying up after the Great Flood (as I usually begin stories I tell to the grandkids), I met a fellow named Clark Draper.