How To Become an Accident(al) Farm Hand

Call it the butterfly effect.  Call it whatever you like; sometimes life’s seemingly insignificant twists and turns carry a big impact.  If you’d told me two years ago I’d be spending one day a week on a farm, I’d have said you’re crazy.  But accidents happen, and sometimes they result in pounds of tomatoes and enough sweet potatoes to last until spring.

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Fifty Words for Rain

It is rumored that the Eskimo had fifty words for snow—you know, a word for the big fat flakes, and for the little tiny ones that don’t amount to much, for the driving blizzards and the gentle, sound-muffling windless storms.  I have not independently verified this, but I’d like to believe it’s true.

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Air-Conditioning or ‘How I Became Weak’

I used to be tough.  I could weather a heat wave barely breaking a sweat.  Sure, summertime meant a small degree of discomfort, but it was eclipsed by fourth of July fireworks, barbecues, and afternoons at the outdoor pool.  It meant fun, freedom and adventure; it was a season to look forward to, and being hot was just part of the experience. . .

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