It’s the only choice you have once you’ve sold all your topsoil to friends who wanted raised beds.
Robert Skoglund
The humble Farmer: No virus will keep me out of the rhubarb patch
That said, I will have to change farmstand operations, since no human can resist the urge to rummage through a pile of produce.
The humble Farmer: I’m socially distant from seagulls, but I still seek Facebook friends
Social media and the present coronavirus have added words to our vocabulary and expanded the meanings of familiar ones.
The humble Farmer: Midcoast Maine toilet paper magnate hasn’t let new status go to his head
After all, he still needs the Almost Perfect Woman to point out the crumbs that he’s missed while vacuuming.
The humble Farmer: Hunkering down and holding my breath as disasters collide
The man we elected to lead our country is putting money ahead of people during a deadly public health crisis.
The humble Farmer: Journeying far and near in search of romance
‘Where did you two meet?’ At sea, around the neighborhood, or in humble’s Model T.
The humble Farmer: As definition of ‘presentable’ changes, my standards are slipping
I no longer take off my hat when I walk into a store (but I won’t wear a baseball cap to a funeral).
The humble Farmer: There’s no place like home – especially when it’s in ‘Peyton Place’
Only in Hollywood could you find a parking place in downtown Camden or shacks in the Anderson hayfield on the St. George peninsula.
The humble Farmer: Can I profit by my Trump obsession – or have I wasted 3 years?
As he lies and insults people, I can’t stop reading about and watching him.
The humble Farmer: Without Facebook, who’d know how smart I can be?
In real life – and in my kitchen – hearing loss and dueling New England accents get in the way.