Out of farm’s way
byWhat a year it’s been. Back in January, we built a greenhouse and, for the first time, were able to grow all six hundred…
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Twelve Months of Farming
byWhile racking my brain, trying to figure out how to do a succinct wrap-up of such an eventful year, the worst song ever written…
Skeleton at the Feast 2020
byI don’t care if you’ve taken just seventeen trips around the sun or seventy of them, you can’t name a more challenging year for…
Pallet cleanser
byIt’s the first week of actual quarantine, in March, when cars aren’t on the road much and the world is deliciously quiet. It’s weird….
Lean cuisine
byI hope one of the silver linings of the pandemic will be more empathy for people standing in line at the food bank or…
Cool Beans
byOh, the sweet taste of irony in the morning. When I was a kid, my dad turned our backyard into a thriving quarter-acre vegetable…
To market, to market
byThe man was thin, wearing a mask, and old. Seventy-two, I think he told Jenn. He was walking by the gate to Dew Point…
Call to action
byI’ll be brief because privileged white people have said far too much for far too long. But Dr. King warned about the silence of…
Beast of Birdin’
by“Go home! You’re drunk!” It’s what we’ve groaned several times over the past two weeks, when we — stricken by the middle-age malady of…
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Grape expectations
byIt started off so innocently. Which is, I know, what Prince Paris and Helen of Troy thought when they met for some spanakopita, and…
