Well, I did the math and counted the dead gas trimmers I have in my possession. In the past 20 years I have purchased seven weed trimmers. No, actually it’s eight, because last year I threw away the remnants of another one that I tried to fix but was never able to successfully put back together.
Listening to the onomatopoeic call of the quintessential nocturnal sound of summer brought back memories of growing up on the farm.
Fifty years ago a new word entered my vocabulary as our nation celebrated our Bicentennial, the 200th anniversary of the adoption of the Declaration of Independence on July 4, 1776.
Last year’s plantings of strawberries are now providing us the sweet taste of late spring that is always a delicious way to welcome summer.
Some of my stories over the years have come during countryside sojourns that take the path less traveled.
I’m not a superstitious person, but I sometimes wonder if someone has placed a curse on my power equipment.
Earthquakes in Wisconsin are pretty rare, with a mild tremor occurring once a decade or so. But if you felt a slight seismic shift recently, it was not due to tectonic activity, but rather, to me crossing off one task on my honey-do list.
A rare encounter with an indigenous wild cat is something I will remember for a long time.
Levi Plath, who gets to play with fire as part of his job. Plath – the land manager with the Mississippi Valley Conservancy – has overseen the land trust’s burn plan program for the past nine years.
The power and significance of the heart has been on my mind the past few months after a medical journey of appointments, tests and procedures that is a stark reminder of my mortality and the future.