Chris Hardie

The Great Pumpkin story, as we call it, came to mind the other day after I drove past a giant-pumpkin display near Pigeon Falls. I pulled over to take a photo, thought about my late father and smiled.

My footsteps made soft crunching noises as I walked across a frosty white carpet. A waning moon was visible in the early-morning sky. In the early hours of Oct. 4, the growing season ended in our valley as temperatures landed in the upper-20s. I awoke to a layer of white frost coating the lawn.

I’ve discovered as I’ve grown older that my ability to muscle through projects continues to diminish. What I could have done at 30 or 40 takes a heck of a lot longer when pushing 60. The will may be there, but the way is just too dang hard.

I’ve been called many things over the years, and now I can add a title to my name that would have made those callers’ heads explode — Lord. Yes, I have been officially proclaimed Lord Christian Hardie because I am a Scottish landowner.

There are more than 300 apple varieties grown at Wisconsin orchards. Visiting orchards is a great fall family event.

In a profession full of uncertainties, one thing we can rely on is farmers finding a way to over-produce any commodity, including hops.

Suddenly the calendar turned to September and I asked myself, “Where did the summer go?”

Recently, while moving a stack of pallets, I disturbed the proverbial hornets’ nest. Fortunately, I was not stung during this encounter.

Photos from the aftermath of a recent massive storm that flattened cornfields across Iowa and into Illinois and Indiana took me back 22 years.

No summer is complete without foraging for wild blackberries, but this year’s blackberry plants have taken a hit from the recent dry spell.