Rusty Gold

If someone had told me when I was 12 that one day I would own a "farm" and that I'd spend long, hot days stacking hay, harvesting crops and weeding endless rows of pumpkins - I would have thought they were crazy....

Here I am - livin' the dream! I sit on the front deck listening to the sizzle of our dinner on the grill and look around at the fruits of our labor. I am so fortunate to live on family land, harvest crops that our hands planted and watch as my children embrace their childhood years playing in the fields.

Because of this nostalgia, I'm a sucker for rusty farm implements. The rustier, the better! I acquired this old plow from the rock wall behind Robert's house and can imagine Grampa Corson using it in his own gardens. It's a priceless relic and finds its way into our front flower beds every spring.