Alfalfa field
Whenever I pass a freshly plowed field it gives me the same thrill as an unopened book. Full of potential, surprise, pleasure. And just like that book that beckons me to peek beneath its cover, the sight of that rich, dark earth beckons me to curl my feet into the freshly tilled layers.
As a child, I lived on a dairy and had a childhood surrounded with animals—cows, dogs, cats, hamsters and the occasional jack-rabbit my father found orphaned when cutting alfalfa.
Farm dog
Fresh, clean air and the farm provided a plentiful playground. I scampered through alfalfa fields and hay barns. I…
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