Farm Life Quotes

Quotes tagged as "farm-life" (showing 1-21 of 21)
Arlene Stafford-Wilson
“Warm familiar scents drift softly from the oven,
And imprint forever upon our hearts
That this is home
and that we are loved.”
Arlene Stafford-Wilson, Lanark County Calendar

Laura Ruby
“Finn fell asleep draped in Kittens and dreamed that the corn walked the earth on skinny white roots, liked to joke with the crows, and wasn't afraid of anything.”
Laura Ruby, Bone Gap

Arlene Stafford-Wilson
“The air was fresh and crisp and had a distinct smell which was a mixture of the dried leaves on the ground and the smoke from the chimneys and the sweet ripe apples that were still clinging onto the branches in the orchard behind the house.”
Arlene Stafford-Wilson, Recipes and Recollections: Treats and Tales from Our Mother's Kitchen

Sandra Neil Wallace
“They got a manure machine in there,” Keller said. He went up to the barn and peeked through a hole between tow boards. “On wheels. It’s fun to ride sometimes, when you don’t care how you smell.”
Sandra Neil Wallace

Arlene Stafford-Wilson
“We stepped a little quicker, laughed a little louder and chatted over the fences a little longer. We gathered bouquets of wildflowers, dined on fresh strawberries and began to ride our bikes up and down the Third Line again. We ran up grassy hills and rolled back down through the young clover, feeling light and giddy, free from our heavy boots and coats. There were trilliums to pick for Mother and tadpoles to catch and keep in a jar. Spring had come at last to Bathurst Township and was she ever worth the wait!”
Arlene Stafford-Wilson, Lanark County Calendar

Sandra Neil Wallace
“Little Joe was still behind him. Eli could feel it. He wanted to look back, but he couldn’t. The tears were too close. If he were Fancy, he’d turn around and kick and buck and moo and do just about anything to keep his calf near. But Eli wasn’t Fancy; he was a farmer.”
Sandra Neil Wallace

“The cost to reconnect animals to live in natural settings without human support is a debt that many animals in transition must honor with their lives.”
Young Tim

Brenda Sutton Rose
“Today, it is the scent of honeysuckle that takes me back in time and lays me down near a barn. I pick a honeysuckle blossom, touch the trumpet to my nose and inhale. With sticky filthy fingers, I pinch the base of its delicate well then lick the drop of nectar. The sweet liquid makes me thirst for more, and I reach for another and another, the same hands that reach again and again for tobacco as I string. I separate honeysuckle blossoms and taste.”
Brenda Sutton Rose

Brenda Sutton Rose
“I know this place like I know the calluses on my hands.”
Brenda Sutton Rose, Dogwood Blues

Earl B. Russell
“I walked through the house to the back porch and found the screen door covered top to bottom, side to side, with cats meowing for food. . . . They were so thick on the door I could barely see the light between them.”
Earl B. Russell, Cold Turkey at Nine: The Memoir of a Problem Child

Arlene Stafford-Wilson
“We need only to close our eyes and we are back on the Third Line, walking up the lane, through the yard and entering the bright, warm kitchen. We are home again.”
Arlene Stafford-Wilson, Lanark County Calendar

Arlene Stafford-Wilson
“Some things were done a certain way and they had been done that same way for ages. Most of the time it was a good thing, a reliable thing, and we grew up being able to count on life being very predictable and very dependable.”
Arlene Stafford-Wilson, Lanark County Chronicle

Arlene Stafford-Wilson
“On harsh, frigid January days, when the winds are relentless and the snow piles up around us, I often think of our small feathered friends back on the Third Line. I wonder if the old feeder is still standing in the orchard and if anyone thinks to put out a few crumbs and some bacon drippings for our beautiful, hungry, winter birds. In the stark, white landscape they provided a welcome splash of colour and their songs gave us hope through the long, silent winter.”
Arlene Stafford-Wilson, Lanark County Calendar

Kristin Kimball
“Mark came home late one frozen Sunday carrying a bag of small, silver fish. They were smelts, locally known as icefish. He’d brought them at the store in the next town south, across from which a little village had sprung up on the ice of the lake, a collection of shacks with holes drilled in and around them. I’d seen the men going from the shore to the shacks on snowmobiles, six-packs of beer strapped on behind them like a half dozen miniature passengers. “Sit and rest,” Mark said. “I’m cooking.” He sautéed minced onion in our homemade butter, added a little handful of crushed, dried sage, and when the onion was translucent, he sprinkled n flour to make a roux, which he loosened with beer, in honor of the fishermen. He added cubed carrot, celery root, potato, and some stock, and then the fish, cut into pieces, and when they were all cooked through he poured in a whole morning milking’s worth of Delia’s yellow cream. Icefish chowder, rich and warm, eaten while sitting in Mark’s lap, my feet so close to the woodstove that steam came off my damp socks.”
Kristin Kimball, The Dirty Life: On Farming, Food, and Love

Laura Ruby
“I'd be okay with that kind of trouble," Amber said, as a pair of flannel-clad farm boys headed toward them.”
Laura Ruby, Bone Gap

Brenda Sutton Rose
“No matter where I go, I’ll never forget home. I can feel its heartbeat a thousand miles away. Home is the place where I grew my wings.”
Brenda Sutton Rose

Laura Ruby
“Corn can add inches in a single day; if you listened, you could hear it grow.”
Laura Ruby

Linda Boynton Pedersen
“It is my joy to share with present and future generations these stories so full of humor, warmth, and adventure – and so rich in the rural culture of the early 1900's.”
Linda Boynton Pedersen, The Little Alvernon Stories: Volume 2

Brenda Sutton Rose
“As I string, a swift rhythm is played out with my hands, a cadence known only to those who have strung tobacco. To many of the poor workers, the meter and rhythm of stringing tobacco is the only poetry they’ve ever known.”
Brenda Sutton Rose

Jane Harper
“They all had the same visions of breathing fresh, clean air and knowing their neighbors. The kids would eat homegrown veggies and learn the value of an honest day's work.”
Jane Harper, The Dry

Julene Bair
“In the shop, breathing the scent of dusty grease and oil; in the old house, staring into the living room where Dad and Jake used to take naps together on the couch; in the sheep barn, remembering the joy implicit in so much baaing life; in every inch of the farm, I recalled my father’s presence.”
Julene Bair, The Ogallala Road: A Memoir of Love and Reckoning