Chris Hardie

You have to get a grip on reality when the rubber hits the road. That’s just how I roll. 

My love for stories and story-telling carried over into college and my journalism career, where I wrote and later edited thousands of stories. But despite good intentions, much encouragement from readers and a strong desire, I’ve never put together those stories.
Until now.

When we wanted some serious sledding, we’d make the trip to the steeper hills across the creek. Sometimes we’d be joined by cousins and we’d pile as many as we could onto the  six-foot toboggan, a jumbled mass of crossed arms and legs.

As we near the end of another year and the beginning of another, I’m feeling a bit philosophical. Or it could be the result of overindulging on holiday food and spirits.

Dad’s other tool of choice was a hammer. He was fond of saying that if you couldn’t fix it, you simply needed a bigger hammer.

The recent announcement from the U.S. Department of Agriculture that it will soon require nationwide testing of milk to address bird flu outbreaks in dairy herds took me back many years on the farm.

My preparations for the upcoming gun deer season took me on a walk through the woods the other day. While my purpose was to prepare my deer stand, I also needed the walk for therapeutic reasons.

As we march through the end of October, the harvest season is earlier and going full throttle in farm country, thanks mainly to a long stretch of dry weather.

Lilac bloom time is one of my favorite parts of spring, so my senses were sent catawampus when I inhaled their fragrance last week. The nasal insufflation took me back to May when it was October.

There’s always a sense of urgency to get outdoor chores completed when the calendar turns to fall.