Living and writing in a circa 1840 New England Farmhouse with three generations of my family
Life here at 1840 Farm can get pretty dirty. Spring has only been here for a few weeks, yet the never-ending trail of garden soil has already started to appear in our mudroom. I’ll spend ten minutes every evening from now until winter trying to Read More
I’ve just finished reading The Bucolic Plague by Josh-Kilmer Purcell. I was sorry to turn the last page. I enjoyed it too much. I found myself laughing out loud on multiple occasions. I may need a moment to mourn the loss of a great read. I find Read More
Yesterday was a special day at 1840 Farm. Without getting into too much detail, I will tell you that we found ourselves in the midst of a birthday. A birthday that involves a child and the celebration of a decade gone by. I’m not sure where Read More
Seriously. More snow? I am tired of snow. I have snow fatigue. I’ve already posted about The Winter of My Discontent. Yet here I sit, with more freshly fallen snow at 1840 Farm. Enough already. I couldn’t come up with anything to do to help Read More
One of my earliest cooking memories involves my mother and chocolate fudge. I was sitting on the kitchen counter a safe distance from the bubbling pot as the mixture boiled away on the stove. I watched in amazement as the candy thermometer registered higher and Read More
Bah, humbug. It just hasn’t seemed like the holidays here at 1840 Farm this year. First, there is not a single flake of snow on the ground. Not one. The practical side of me is not upset about our lack of winter precipitation. I’m quite content Read More
Here we sit at 1840 Farm. It is almost the end of November. The garden has been put to bed for the winter. The leaves have been corralled into their leaf compost bins. Well, at least most of them. Summer is over and fall is Read More
A war of epic proportions has erupted here at 1840 Farm. I was minding my own business, happily mixing up dough for a batch of cinnamon rolls. I snapped the bowl of my electric mixer into its base and switched on the motor. Nothing happened. Read More
I’ve had a wide variety of duties here at 1840 Farm. I’ve been a wife, mother, cook, housekeeper, handyman, appliance repairman, etc. Luckily, I’ve never had to be an undertaker. Well, until a few days ago.
It’s official. It’s fall. I know, I know. I’m supposed to embrace this change. I should get out my favorite sweater, go apple picking, and buy a pumpkin. I don’t want to. Instead, I want to invite summer to stay a while longer. I want to thumb my nose at Mother Nature. I want her to understand in no uncertain terms that she can keep her beautiful foliage if I can keep my tomato patch a while longer.
I’ve made my share of macaroni and cheese in the 1840 Farm kitchen. From the homemade to the (I’m sorry to say) character-shaped pasta shapes in cheese sauce the color of a dayglo orange construction cone.
It was a typical Tuesday morning at 1840 Farm. I was 90 minutes into a tomato soup canning session when the phone rang. When I picked it up, I could immediately hear the “cheep, cheep, cheep” in the background as a not very impressed postal employee Read More