Every year we look forward to our cow manure harvest just after the spring thaw with its muck moves north. Our good neighbor lets us take as much as we like. This year my husband brought only two shovels for three people (himself, son and me). He said I was no use to him with the cows about since I’d spend more time looking at them. And so it’s true.
HERE’S WHAT I SAW:
Support your independent thinker this weekend by purchasing my book!
If doing life right were easy we’d have short novels and no war. In honor of imperfect relationships and challenging living conditions I’m having a $.99 Kindle eBook sale on The House on Tenafly Road this upcoming weekend Feb 15-16 (the day after Valentine’s Day makes you begin to wish you had a morphine-addicted spouse–or maybe realize, damn, you have it good).
So gather up your pennies (c’mon it won’t break the bank) and buy the book. Tell your friends, too–you know, the ones who like really falling in love with screwed up characters who redeem themselves. Or the ones who like page-turners with military heroes. Or the ones who like big books with maps. Love, death, maps and redemption–who could ask for anything more?
Farmsteader’s son with prize 4-H Club calf. Fairbury Farmsteads, Nebraska
Rothstein, Arthur, 1915-1985, photographer
No, not Camilla!
Of course anyone with animals already knows they have different personalities, right? I’d like to hear about your favorite/least favorite animal on the farm or in your apartment. One of the characters in my series of books will try his hand at farming, but his wife will be humiliated by the idea and get him a job in town (probably with disastrous results as I like to write about small disasters). We used to have a dog named Chuckie (think horror movie). When our guests arrived and gathered round the dining room table, Chuckie–a big dog–got under the table and peed for what seemed like an eternity. There was no point putting on airs after that.
Norman Rockwell makes me happy.