Life at The Perry Farm
We have an apple orchard. Actually, it has us. Two dozen Braeburn, Gala, Granny Smith, and Mutsu trees that we never have time to take care of properly fend for themselves, and we drop by in September to pick or pick up our share. With a family and town jobs and a garden and a... Continue Reading →
It is sunny but 60, so I bring a blanket, Keith, and a thermos of tea. When I'm at a loss for the next line, I eat a piece of chocolate from the box stowed in the vee of my sweater. On the second try, I move the hammock far enough away from the walnut... Continue Reading →
“In the between” is a phrase Robert Thurman uses to describe the “place” between death and life, a fitting description of where we are in the Midwest just now. The drought is lessening, thanks to rains that came far sooner than we were led to believe they might. The grass is inordinately green and lush... Continue Reading →
M. H. Perry 