There has been some sort of vegetable garden on our farm for almost 100 years, dating back to my great-grandparents. I’ve been told that my great-grandmother Hilda Hardie was fond
There’s nothing predictable about memories, which are sometimes as harsh as a hammer strike on an anvil – and the next moment as soft as puffy clouds in a blue
I’m thankful in many ways for growing up and moving back to the farm. But I’m also appreciative of not needing to stack hay bales anymore. Any hay that our