Chris Hardie

There comes a day every year in the midst of the dance of the seasons when winter allows spring a brief interlude. 

I still cut some wood and like to burn it, especially during cold snaps or simply as ambiance.

None of us would be here today if our ancestors hadn’t been resilient. Some faced unimaginable challenges or horrors. Some paths were easier. But all were resilient.

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.