A drive down memory lane

DeAnn (Wolkow) KruempelCare centers across the country carry on a weekly ritual; they take residents out on a drive through the country. Pull up the van, engage the lift. Wheelchairs, walkers and canes are standard equipment.

Little Pasture on the Prairie

This week, Millie, one of the ewes we’d bred to be a fall lamber, had a set of twins. She is a bit shy and often hangs back when some of the other, more social ewes crowd around to greet me.

The stories woven into our lives

It sent us out into the world to whatever adventure awaited us. It welcomed us into a safe place of warmth and love.It was not the first of its kind, nor would it be the last. As the youngest in the family, it is what I remember during most of my growing up years.

Little Pasture on the Prairie

There are hints autumn will arrive early this year and that winter might be long and hard: a few yellowing leaves high in the canopy of the cottonwoods, an abundance of chokecherries and wild plums, the long call of geese and ducks, already flocking up.

Home Country: Small miracles

We knew it was coming when Bert came into the Mule Barn truck stop the other day. He took his usual stool at the philosophy counter and world dilemma think tank, where he reigns as Cutting Edge Technology Advisor to the board of directors.It was that glint in his eye that gave it away. “Hi Bert.

Home Country: Small miracles

When we first noticed the baby sparrow, here at the house, it saddened us all. He had fallen from his nest and was slowly walking around the front yard under the tree while his mother and father had an absolute fit.

Little Pasture on the Prairie

Six years ago, I buckled my two-year-old daughter and four-year-old son in their carseats and started driving east. We were heading to Duluth so we could meet their brand new baby cousin.

The door to happiness is always ajar

Or maybe a jar? A jar of dill pickles? How about bread and butter or sweet lime? Yellow bean, crab apple, cinnamon apple rings, watermelon rind, or beet? All of these kinds of pickles and probably more lined our farm pantry shelves.

Stray Thoughts:

Elaborate stone frontages presiding over old main street.Vestiges of a bygone era.Ornamentally denticulated surrogates of a grander time when community mattered.Bastions standing together, shoulder to shoulder supporting one another.

CANDLES AND MIRRORS: Darker than night

Darkness surrounded me. No moon or stars lit the path that led through our farm yard to the brooder house. “Check for chickens roosting in the trees, then shut them in for the night,” Mom instructed, though I knew the drill. But usually, a bit of daylight remained or Delmer walked with me.