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It’s a slow day here on Burnett even though the weather is comfortable, and I assume I could find outdoor gardening work to do. But I lack ambition, and my plump, affectionate, gray cat, Jasmine lies on my lap. I
Note: first posted at 11:30 pm, Saturday, March 30, 2013, then edited on March 31. Time for bed, yes. But I sit in my Lazy Boy chair with the plumpest, most cuddly of my four house cats, Jasmine, on my lap. Just
I sit hesitantly at my keyboard. The washer and dryer are rumbling in the nearby room. I look out the window at my farm shed at the back of the lot. I see the brown branches of tall trees swaying in
I grew up on a northwest Iowa farm in a township where my ancestors had farmed since 1878. There is much that I love about my heritage (especially the memories of my grandfather who farmed with horses and my grandmother
When Steven and I first moved into our Ames house with its small yard, we puzzled over how to squeeze in some apple trees. First, we bought the rental house next door, in part to expand our growing space. Then
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