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The chainsaw

The chainsaw

Farmer Gary is a renaissance man. His decades of planting and harvesting crops have taken him into the realms of botany, nutrition, chemistry, geology, meteorology. There’s math, engineering, economics, accounting, Even a bit of stand-up comedy. “Back when they were doing some digging work over at Mom’s home place, I noticed one of the bulldozers was a Japanese brand, so I asked the mechanic how he liked working on the equipment. He told me ‘the hardest part was learning to…

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Bows and chapeaux

Bows and chapeaux

It’s National Hat Day, had you heard? Feels like a good excuse to pull together photos of family members and their fancy chapeaux from over the past 100 years. This first picture is of my great-grandfather Patrick Cassidy. He was a police officer, first in Belfast and then in New Haven, Connecticut. This photo is from around 1915. Here’s one of Patrick’s sons, Christy, looking snazzy: Another of Patrick’s four sons, Frank, was also a policeman. And my grandpa. Hopping…

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Trees for Lady Bird

Trees for Lady Bird

Are you old enough to remember the “Keep America Beautiful” slogan? It’s from back in the 1960s (and has nothing to do with current political swag). During President Johnson’s time in office, the First Lady took on a nation-wide project to clean up the look of the place. “We need urgently to restore the beauty of our land.” – Lady Bird Johnson According to the LBJ Library website, her Highway Beautification Act bill almost didn’t pass: Just before the 1965…

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The Swearing Jug

The Swearing Jug

There comes a time in every mother’s life when she simply has to put her foot down. Dad recalls the first time Mom did this. It was in the mid-1960s, we were living in Pittsfield, and there was too much cussin’ going on in our house. “Mom got on my case,” he remembers. I asked Dad, “So what was it, mostly ‘hell’ and ‘damn’?” ” … bastard, too.” The response came much sooner than I would have expected. For those…

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The final tomato

The final tomato

Today is the last day of summer. The temperatures have already cooled and the fields are ready for harvest. My darling tomato-picker has been busy all summer: Cameron wasn’t sure he’d like the taste of a grape tomato, but sampled a few each time he visited us this summer. He’s still not sure. When Gary and I went to spend some time with Dad in Connecticut earlier this month (quarantining all the while, as per the Nutmeg State‘s Covid rules),…

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‘Snakes is snakes’

‘Snakes is snakes’

Gary doesn’t like snakes. Not one bit. Living on a farm, though, there are plenty of opportunities for reptilian encounters. Here are just a few: Pssst! Up here! The other morning, Gary headed out to our garage to hop on his John Deere lawnmower, as the grass in our yard is in rapid-growth mode. First, he backed my vehicle out of the way. Walking back in to get the mower, a scruffy old bird’s nest on the ground right in…

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A farmer’s guide to Coronavirus

A farmer’s guide to Coronavirus

Okay, so technically I’m a farmer’s wife, but after 37 years of marriage, I know a thing or two – and nearly everything about farming applies to tips for getting through this Coronavirus pandemic. (1) Wash your stinkin’ hands! Farmers get dirty. Whether it’s dirt, sweat, animal entrails, manure, or some combination of the above, your wife doesn’t want you dragging it in the house. Wash up. The Center for Disease Control (CDC) says scrub for 20 seconds. That’s exactly…

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Olive you not

Olive you not

In case you haven’t happened upon this fact, I’m here to tell you: There’s nothing quite as polarizing as black olives. Some people love them. And I mean LOVE. To the point they’ll steal them off of your plate. While others … well, we won’t steal them back. My introduction to black olives was back in the mid 1960s. Each Friday, Mom packed up the kids and we headed to Adams Super Market. It was a huge store, for the…

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City mouse, country mouse

City mouse, country mouse

Nearly four decades ago – on August 7, 1982 – Gary and I got married. We’d met 18 months prior. I was a reporter, he was a local farmer fighting the federal government to save his land. My first words to my future husband: What the hell’s a watershed? Gary’s animated response won me over, and I’ve never tired of his stories in all these years. We met in February of 1981. Gary popped the question in December. We planned…

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