The Old Place is the 80 acres of woods and swamp and fields where I was born: actually I was born ten miles down the road in Blackduck but Robert was born on this very land. It is, for reasons I cannot exactly explain, the most important place in my life. I was a very happy young child there, free to roam the woods with book in hand, or walk up and… Read More

  When I was a kid we went visiting. Over to the neighbors, over to the friends, maybe further away to visit the cousins. Visiting consisted firstly of serious amounts of coffee and ‘lunch.’ Usually the latter included sandwiches (white bread, luncheon meat, cheese, butter, jam), sauce (home canned fruits of many kinds), cookies, and cake (the cake having been quickly put together and into the oven after the company arrived) and… Read More

We rurally-raised elders remember when people went ‘visiting.’ It went kind of like this at our place: Dad might say “Let’s go over to Knute’s and get some coffee.” Or Mom wondered if she could get that recipe for molasses cake from Helen. Or Robert or I wanted to go play somewhere besides our own fields and woods and hay loft and back bedrooms. So I get way too country-girl-sentimental when I… Read More