Notes
| Quotes
| Letters
The
Sex Lives of Laying Hens
Jo Leath
I came to farming late in life.
I did not have the advantage of growing up with livestock; barnyards were
places I visited briefly. I never even asked the questions
about animal reproduction that a farm child could have answered.
The
Earthship Builder
Clare Warmke
It's taken
three summers of dirt slinging and heavy sweating in the humidity of her
Philo, Ohio farm, but Candy Slaughter's house of garbage is nearly complete.
Constructed of 1,100 recycled automobile tires rammed with earth, and countless
used soda cans or bottles, the 1,650 square foot Earthship is coming along
exactly according to schedule. . . .
Minnie
Jo Leath
Some wimmin
are born rural, some wimmin choose to live rural, and others have rural
thrust upon them. . . .
I
went out into my overgrown and wild garden today
prompted by
all of you and the talk of herbs, roses and plants with previous lives
and histories.
Photo Essay
Great Plains
Photos, corn and wheat harvest, landscapes & skyscapes
No
Cows to Worry About Any More
Audrey
Montana
"My laundered
work jacket is folded and tucked neatly in the back of my jeep beside my
clean work boots, as if I'm only waiting for the weather to change before
putting them on again."
Selling
the family dairy cows
Audrey
Montana
I had been
watching the dairy today out my west windows, seeing the pens full of milk
cows for the very last afternoon. In spite of the fact that I'm sick
and it's snowing, I eventually put on my boots and jacket and went up there.
. . .
Short short
stories
Returning
Abbie Bruch
Since I’m not even sure why I want
to see her again, after all these months, this should be pretty simple.
She left me once, and I left her once. Since we are even now, since we
obviously can live without our constant friendship, since my leaving was
no big deal, this will be pretty easy. Simple.
Book excerpt
Dolphin
Talk
Marie De
Santis
.......Every
one of us in this society is severely deprived of a
relationship
with Mother Nature. Nature no longer provides
for
us; no longer supplies the rhythm of our lives; nor is it the
source
of our work or ay interaction at all other than the
camping,
hiking, and sailing which is only the hollow shell of
the
real relationship we lost generations ago. . . .
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