Curiously, only in sports do we agree to eschew technological advances, making rules, for example, to limit the power potential of baseball bats. We understand that technology will ruin our games, but we do not understand that it can also ruin cultur...
Of course, I prefer organic farming to chemical-dependent farming, but sometimes absolutist organic prescriptions go too far. I don't even rule out the possibility of genetic modification generating some benign ideas, as long as we can keep them away...
I had old bunk beds that my dad got from Seabrook Farms. They were first used by German prisoners during World War II, who were sent to work the farms during the war. The metal beds with their thin mattresses could easily be used as a jungle gym and ...
Barack wants to stop all children from working on the farm... Can you imagine this? I just, I can't fathom that. Did you ever think we'd grow up in America and see something like that? Let me take it one step further. He wants to disallow the 4-H fro...
Farming's always been my business.
A determined Yankee book drummer once told a Southerner that 'a set of books on scientific agriculture' would teach him to 'farm twice as good as you do.' To which the Southerner replied: 'Hell, son, I don't farm half as good as I know how now.
Our food is among the most intimate connections we make with the earth.
A natural person can achieve right diet because his instinct is in proper working order. He is satisfied with simple food; it is nutritious, tastes good, and is useful daily medicine. Food and the human spirit are united.
I had a dream about you. You owned a farm, and you grew teamwork, because yours was an ant farm. I was a coach looking to recruit some new fruit, but I decided to give your produce a try. I made the right decision because I ended up winning the 2014 ...
My parents moved to Los Angeles when I was really young, but I spent every summer with my grandparents, and I'd stay with my grandfather on the farm in Longview. He was retired from the railroad, and he had a small farm with some cows and some pigs. ...
Of course present knowledge of psychology is nearer to zero than to complete perfection, and its applications to teaching must therefore be often incomplete, indefinite, and insecure. The application of psychology to teaching is more like that of bot...
I grew up on a farm.
I will never cut it as a Quaker - I cannot find it in me to renounce all violence, not with two daughters under my protection - but I do love their silent hour, which in my case invariably evolved into a self-scouring meditation on the idea that the ...
If we are going to start calling industrial corn sustainable, then we might as well say that petroleum is a renewable resource if you're willing to wait long enough.
We’re organisms; we’re conceived, we’re born, we live, we die, and we decay. But as we decay we feed the world of the living: plants and bugs and bacteria.
We cannot afford to be discouraged from challenging the corporate control of our food system, our genetic commons, our shared resources, or our democracy. The history of social change in our nation shows that the political system can be reformed, eve...
Adjunct teachers are the professorial equivalent of the migrant Mexican farm laborers hired during harvest. If you can get a good contract at the same farm every year, where the farmer pays you on time and doesn't cheat or abuse you, then it's in you...
If you want to know my story, you have to go back to the beginning. Not the beginning-beginning, but about nine months later. You see, I was born as a poor farm boy. Believe it or not, my parents were so poor that they didn’t even own a farm. Nope....
My plans for the future are to serve more and better, to worry less about the things that are unimportant, to let my wife and children know how much I love them, to openly support whatever I can see is good, to appreciate and to encourage everyone in...
Why do we keep believing that we can control nature,even as it banishes us repeatedly from our homes in search of new fertile ground?
We drove out of New Paltz heading due north. Squeezed into my tiny hatchback, among our boxes and bags, were my dog, Nico, the hens, and the humming hive of bees, its openings covered over with tape. The dog eyed the hive, the chickens eyed the dog, ...