It was a Rip Van Winkle summer evening when I watched my family disassemble. The wind and rain beat against the dining room patio windows, intentionally showcasing a lone wild turkey in the pasture beyond. We ate and drank in a Last Supper tableau, with a disregard for sacred subjects that had not been…

It seeped over me quite unexpectedly and caught me off guard like a gentle summer rain. I watch the scenery of my youth– old houses, stoic farms, roadside gardens. Tactile roadside stopping posts announcing flowers, honey and eggs. Clapboard buildings needing paint; restored structures proudly displaying pride.   I was lulled by the familiarity, yet,…

Hello, Friends: Here I am in the blog again, at last. Our door opened with squeeky hinges, since I have been so lax. Time has flown by since I posted my first entry. We hosted a barn market in April, a mini Farm to Table dinner with college friends, many tiny house week-ends with new…

    Welcome to the Potato Hill Farm Blog: This is the first entry of, hopefully, many. The topic today surrounds Creating a Sacred Space: “You must have a room or a acertain hour of the day or so where you do not know what was in the morning paper. . . a place where…