Who We Are



The past few years, the area where I live, Crawford County, Ohio, has seen a wonderful explosion of younger families who are embracing the joys and challenges of living off the land. Because of them, amazing things are happening which have been embraced by our community. Farmer’s markets have been created and on-farm stores have opened. Families dedicated to growing organic produce and naturally raised meats are meeting the public’s needs for locally raised foods. And at the heart of this movement are the women.



Ohio Country Journal is my attempt to share the essence of farm life, focusing on, but not limited to, women. My goal is to bring you into our circle of friendship by inviting you to share your stories and experiences with us. You don’t have to be a full time country woman to benefit from joining us; you just have to be you.





The full-time country women featured in Ohio Country Journal are an inspiration to anyone who dares to follow her dreams, whether it is to live in the country or to bring the country life-style to their urban neighborhoods.





Sunday, April 7, 2013

Listen to the Wind...

...like we have a choice; how could anyone miss the wind's howling this morning?
 
It's another cold day; wind and rain and more wind. More like early March than early April, but, hey, I remember a few years ago a big snow hit in April, so it goes to show that Ohio weather refuses to be boxed into categories.
 
I can't think of a poet who was more in tune with weather and the seasons than Robert Frost. Weather did not seem to bother him, he took it as it came. In his world, a wind like today's was something to celebrate because it blew away winter debris and weariness to make room for Spring events to happen, like the nest of sparrow eggs in the picture below. So if today's wind has the purpose of  chasing winter away so that we can spend more time out of doors, I say, "bring it on!"
 
Marcheta *holding on to her hat
 
 
 
 
 
To the Thawing Wind
Robert Frost
 
Come with rain, O loud Southwester!
Bring the singer, bring the nester
Give the buried flower a dream
Make the settled snow-bank steam
Find the brown beneath the white
 But whate'er you do to-night
 Bathe my window, make it flow
Melt it as the ice will go
Melt the glass and leave the sticks
Like a hermit's crucifix
Burst into my narrow stall
Swing the picture on the wall
 Run the rattling pages o'er
 Scatter poems on the floor
Turn the poet out of door.

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