BLOGS

Southern Italy can be a tough place to live. My girlfriend is a hardened product of its streets. She rode the public bus two hours to school each day while ignoring the perverse catcalls of nefarious men (and once a slap in the face from an old woman).

When was the last time you or your spouse left the farm? Running into town for parts, drugs or groceries doesn’t count. When was the last time you physically removed yourself from the place and went somewhere with a purpose other than what I just mentioned?

The bright red, yellow and orange of autumn leaves and the chill of the wind announce that fall has arrived and winter is well on its way. I can’t imagine how it was back then on that first Thanksgiving Day for those Pilgrims who survived the treacherous sea voyage in a ship not bigger than my house. They had buried their dead at sea and in shallow frozen graves.

Have you ever wanted something to be done so bad it no longer matters how it gets done, as long as it is complete, just so you can be free to move on to a new task or project?

When my husband and I decided to come back to his family’s farm, we sure didn’t come back for the money or the cushy hours. We chose farming as an occupation because we knew we wanted to raise our family on a farm. It’s simply the best way to raise kids … at least that’s what our 21-year-old selves thought.