Fireworks at the Farm
It’s 1967. The 4th of July is tomorrow, and we can’t wait. We’ve hauled bales and stacked them in the
Breathe deep…you're home now
It’s 1967. The 4th of July is tomorrow, and we can’t wait. We’ve hauled bales and stacked them in the
Today would have been Mom’s 80th birthday. Shortly before she went to Heaven, I wrote this for her. I think
I’m not sure what to do with the copper tub, but I know one thing — it’s not for sale.