Life at The Perry Farm
I know nothing about horses, but I do know something about wildflowers: They’re beautiful, enticing, intoxicating. Which is what Riley, the runaway horse, discovered after travelling four miles in search of a boyfriend. She opted for our patch of native forbs and grasses instead, fifty unfenced acres where she could run around and kick up... Continue Reading →
Cottonwoods grow up along the margins of whatever landscape we humans denude and then occupy. But this is their grace and their history, to grow unbidden, untended, and yet beloved.
“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 