Tales from FAR Manor

With the stingy rainfall, and temps well past 90°F lately[1], maybe creeping into triple digits south of Sector 706, you would think it’s su...

More rain is headed our way tomorrow afternoon, but the weekend gave us a pair of not-quite-spring days: a fair measure of sun, and highs of...

As I’ve said, there were a few upsides to the pandemic (for us, anyway). Avoiding restaurants, for one thing, meant we made a dent in our ov...

Winter #2 arrived at FAR Manor on Christmas Eve, with heavy rain changing over to mixed sleet and snow in late afternoon. We had a break in ...

Wednesday, 5:30pm: I set up my auto-reply message for work email, shut down the laptop, turned out the lights, and headed downstairs. My end...

I called him Buncha (as in Buncha Bull). Mason called him Bully. The young woman that helps the wife out with farm stuff called him Carl ( C...

When you live in a free-range insane asylum, you never know who (or what) is gonna show up next, looking for a little living space… I gues...

On Planet Georgia, the harvest begins in earnest in August. The mother in law, who was the major garden person around here, departed a coupl...

Not the kind that runs on your phone. I’m not sure there is  any debugging of the hot mess that is Microsoft products. The father-in-law h...

When this isn’t happening, there’s a problem. Even without the chicken houses, there are a zillion ways around here to have a significa...