I was standing at a window in the other living room—the room we use so seldom that we are never even quite sure what to call it—craning my neck and peering out between the blinds. “Whatcha lookin’ at?” asked The Mister, a twinkling of amusement and curiosity in his voice. “My woodpile, of course!” […]
Backyard farming since 2007--raising our own, saving up for hard times, rejecting consumerism, and hugging the land.
BDN blogger in New York Times bestselling series
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