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The No. 1 request we get from readers is to print more diaries. In the early days, every issue had three or four of them—but over the years, we saw those numbers dwindle. Well, I’m pleased to say that for the first time in a long time, this issue includes three ag diaries. First up you’ll hear from Bryant Vaught, a cattleman from Missouri who took the helm of the family farm when his grandparents retired. Next is Teagan Joslyn, now 14 years old, who pitches in on his family’s Michigan farm as a way to honor his granddad. And finally there’s George Lindemann, a businessman, farmer and conservationist who is working to restore native grasses while raising his Longhorn and Angus herds in Tennessee. We’ve also got an exciting…
Lamb-ily traditions We really loved the Farm Table story, “Lamb Cake Lore,” in your April/May issue. We have the same Easter tradition. Here’s a picture of the one my sister made this year. ANNETTE HORNIK BLOOMING GROVE, TEXAS INTO THE WOODS In the April/May issue, you asked us to send in our favorite farm memories. Every summer I looked forward to joining my mother-in-law on a trek into the woods, where we would pick black raspberries and morel mushrooms. As soon as the berries were cleaned, my father-in-law would get himself a bowl of ice cream and pour the fruit all over the top. I still go picking those berries and mushrooms and I think of her, especially, when I am out in the woods. DIANA JOHNSON LIMA, OHIO LEFT…
1. SPEEDY DELIVERY I liked raising chickens as a child, and my husband and I thought it’d be fun for our kids. The day after we brought our hens home, my son got up at 6 a.m. to check for eggs—and he found one! ALESHA ERDENBERGER GLEN HAVEN, WISCONSIN 2. SHE’S NO QUACK! Our Jorja loves visiting Grandma Judy’s farm, with all its ducks, pigs and chickens. She loves all animals and says she wants to be a veterinarian when she grows up. JILL PERKEREWICZ EAST GRAND FORKS, MINNESOTA 3. CENTURY-FARM FROLICS Parker explores the Oklahoma wheat field that has been farmed by our family for six generations. Behind him you can see his great-great grandfather’s barn. COURTNEY HARGIS-McCLURE ALLEN, TEXAS 4. PRIORITIES IN ORDER My father-in-law, Frank, was mowing…
TOWN SPROUTS ABOUT 3 MILES DOWN THE ROAD from the Gerald L. Ignace Indian Health Center, on an acre of Ho-Chunk, Potawatomi and Menominee land in Wisconsin, sits the Native Wellness Garden—the clinic’s answer to food insecurity in Milwaukee’s urban indigenous community. “We can educate our patients all day long about what they need to eat and what kind of activities they should be doing, but if their environment isn’t conducive to that, it’s not going to happen,” says Lisa Albright, the garden’s community outreach coordinator. Along with beds for veggies and medicinal herbs, the garden is home to a fruit and nut orchard and pollinator plants. There are also traditional crops in the “three sisters garden,” where corn provides stalks to support vining beans, and nitrogen from the beans…
REMEMBER WHEN My grandfather, Pappy, was a cotton farmer. From the second-story window of his farmhouse, I’d gaze across miles of flat, treeless fields. The house was in an area known as Tornado Alley, where the weather was a frequent topic of conversation. Pappy never missed a forecast, listening intently on a scratchy, hissing radio. During the summer, I watched supercell thunderstorms swell over the Texas plains almost every evening. My grandmother Maw said that “storm warning” meant go to the cellar. A “storm watch,” indicating heavy winds with rain, thunder, and lightning or hail, also meant go to the cellar. According to Maw, just about any summertime forecast for unruly weather meant go to the cellar. After all, a tornado might spin up—and Maw was terrified of tornadoes. Pappy…
Deep in the hillside forests of northeast Washington state grows “purple gold,” also known as wild huckleberries. These small, deep purple-to-nearly-black berries are sometimes compared to a low bush blueberry, but they have a taste all their own. Simultaneously sweet and tart, they are wonderful in muffins, coffee cakes, pies or cereal. They make a delicious jam and a lovely sauce for pancakes or waffles. Our season starts toward the end of June and, depending on the elevation, extends into September. Prime time is midsummer. And, boy, do we ever work hard to pick them. Everyone has their favorite secret location, and in general we keep that information to ourselves. Folks around here take huckleberry picking very seriously. “Hucks,” as we locals call them, grow on bushes low to the…
