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AS SUMMER WINDS DOWN, city folks load up the kids and head to the country to visit apple orchards, corn mazes, pumpkin patches, hayrides and tractor shows. It’s a wonderful way for people who are a generation or two removed from the farm to reconnect with their roots and show the kids that food doesn’t just magically appear in the supermarket. Even if you farm for a living, you’ll enjoy these farms and shows every bit as much as your city cousins. Take Shiloh Acres Family Dairy, which is featured on page 32, for example. Fifteen-year-old Sarah Ring, one of 13 kids, grows pumpkins in her garden to sell and helps out at her family’s bulk food store near Conneaut, Ohio. After reading her diary, we think you’ll agree that…
Window Watching I enjoyed Dan Gogerty’s story about the kitchen window on page 24 of the June/July issue. It reminds me of a poem I copied from Farm Wife News. (This was the predecessor of Country Woman, a sister publication of Farm & Ranch Living.) It’s just a kitchen window above my kitchen sink, but over the years, it’s become my special place to think. I sort out all my problems, watch the seasons hurry by, and dream about tomorrow while looking at the sky. From here I’ve watched my children grow—time won’t stand still. I once looked down to see them. Now they’re even with the sill. I watched my husband haul grain and fill the loft with hay. I’ve seen the storm clouds gather and then sweep the…
Our 12-year-old granddaughter Brianna inherited the artistic abilities of Theresa Elbert Pilcher (right), her great-grandmother. Theresa sewed oodles of quilts for all of her children and grandchildren and won many art awards, mainly for crocheting, at the local Chautauqua Auditorium. Brianna wanted to make a barn quilt in Theresa’s honor. My husband Loren’s favorite quilt was a colorful one his mom made in 1914, when she was very young. The design seemed like it would be easy to replicate. With a helpful trip to our friendly lumberman, we were off and running. We purchased two 4-by-8 boards, planning to feature the quilt’s rectangular blocks on one and credit Theresa on the other. We set the first board on the dining room table, used a pencil to draw the design and…
Amazing Aunt Mary Mary Hughes, my aunt, is 83 years old and still lives on the farm in Cedar County, Missouri. This land has been in my family for more than a century. She is an amazing lady, and we all cherish her. Mary is a retired fourth-grade teacher and very active in her community. Her loyal dog, Brownie, is her best friend and companion. She has six cows, puts a garden out every year and cans her vegetables in the summer to share with family and friends. She loves flowers, especially her heirloom rose bushes and hollyhocks. But Mary’s true passion is chickens. She buys and hatches chicks every spring and likes to compare their growth and production. Her favorite breeds are Golden Laced Wyandotte and Phoenix. She enjoys…
Nestled in the rugged Green Mountains of northern Vermont, Boyden Farm showcases a creative blend of diversified, community-focused enterprises that allow three families from two generations to share the farm while pursuing their separate dreams. It’s a fitting business model in a state where the official motto is “Freedom and Unity.” The family first settled here in the town of Cambridge in 1914 when Fredrick and Phila Boyden bought 300 acres along the Lamoille River. They moved into a brick farmhouse that still sits safely on high ground, and raised nine children along with 28 dairy cows and a pen full of pigs. Fred and Diancy are the third generation of Boydens to earn a living on the farm. Sons Mark and David are the fourth. A fifth generation, all…
Here on our farm we have pigs, horses, cows, chickens and goats, but I love my calf, Ebony, the most. She was a late birthday gift for me in September 2014 when she was just a week old. She is half Jersey, one-quarter Dexter and one-quarter mini Hereford. My mom and I went to pick her up from a friend’s farm that’s about 10 minutes away. When we arrived, I stepped up onto the stock trailer’s fender and peeked through the bars to see her thin, wobbly legs and wide eyes. I begged to ride home with my new calf, and Mom agreed. I quietly walked into the trailer and sat in the corner. As we began to move, tree limbs scraped the roof and made a shrill noise. The…
