I was gone from the farm for two full delivery weeks, the longest I’ve ever been gone from my farm in 23 years. My dad passed away and I went to Milwaukee to be with him before he died and for the days afterwards. I drove back home last Friday late afternoon and as I got into the hills and close to the farm I noticed that fall had come to the valley in the 11 days I had been gone. It felt different, a passage of time I had not been here to witness.

So it is with a life. Where does 85 years go? My dad was here at the corn boil, enjoying himself as he always does. He was supportive and encouraging when David and I announced that we were moving from Madison to start an organic vegetable farm. Dad was curious and proud of all we accomplished. He rode our first transplanter and loved to remember that experience. He wore his Vermont Valley t-shirt and cap with pride and somehow always found the opportunity to tell others about our farm.  He taught me that hard work and perseverance is important and pays off.

Dad, your spirit will live on, on this farm. Your positive attitude, dedication to those you love and care for, disciplined lifestyle, calm approach to whatever presents itself in life and love of a good beer will be held close in my heart forever. Thanks dad.

Barb

My dad, focusing very hard on getting those transplants into the little cups. He talked about this activity for the next 20 years. 1997

A bit of history. David driving our first tractor. My dad on our first transplanter.

My dad and David enjoying time together at this year’s Corn Boil. August 12, 2017

Dad and Barb enjoying a picnic at Concerts on the Square. Two rhubarb pies transported in a farm crate.  Probably around the year 2000

Dad proudly wearing his Vermont Valley t-shirt and cutting into his annual rhubarb pie, lovingly made by me. Father’s Day, Devil’s Lake, 2010.

Grandpa and grandson, Jesse out in the farm fields. 1997