Chris Hardie

Freedom of speech and protests are not always easy. They are sometimes divisive. But they remain an essential part of our democracy as an avenue for change.

Summer is finally here, but continued hijinks by Mother Nature make it anything but normal. And this recently completed spring will be an outlier for phenologists — those who study the cyclical ecological events and their natural timing.

I haven’t driven much lately but have noticed two new road signs erected in my neck of the woods that make me feel proud. There are now along Jackson County Highway C two green road signs that say “Franklin, unincorporated.”

The signs of spring — including birds returning to the Hardie farm — are in full swing. Soon it will be summer. The cycle of life turns.

The Hardies have reopened their Brambleberry Winery, implementing approrpiate social distancing and hygiene policies due to the pandemic.

There are a few magical weeks every May when Mother Nature’s perfume fills the air. She wears essence of lilac, an intoxicating and alluring fragrance. It permeates our souls, lifts old hearts and washes away her winter cruelty. It’s the smell of spring.

It’s a terrible incongruity to mention polar vortex in the same sentence as May. The Arctic air mass sent me grumbling back to the woodpile.

Northfield’s most famous resident is not a person but rather a goat — the “Northfield Goat.” Passersby on I-94 sometimes spot the goat along the cliffs near the 100-mile marker about 2 miles southeast of town.

One lesson that has been driven home during the global COVID-19 pandemic is how interdependent and global our economy is.

It was a mixture of relief and regret as I watched the cattle trailer pull out of our driveway — relief that I was able to find a good buyer for some of our last Scottish Highland cows but regret that we were essentially exiting the cow business.