On the Family Farm By David E. Metcalf How many strawberries have you eaten already?” my brother Loren inquired. “None,” I said, and tried to cover the stains around my mouth. When I was a toddler in the
Idaho Farms Import South African Laborers Story and Photos by Diana Hooley The harvest was busy last September in the farming community where I live on the Snake River near Mountain Home. The rhythmic grind of hay-balers could
But Not at Your Typical Kitchen Garden By Les Tanner “Who brought the peppers?” someone asked. She pointed at a box that sat on the bench in the gym. “Connie did.” As was common in September, people who
Work and Hospitality on the Range Story and Photos by Brian Parry In the summer of 2019, I spent a week with my friends Jim and Jacque Moreno and their family on a beautiful 122-acre ranch near Culdesac.
Endangered Family Farms Stick Together Story and Photos by Richard Mouser In 2005, my family made the decision to move away from the suburban neighborhoods of Eagle and buy an old home in the outskirts of Boise, on
But the Sows Still Sing Story and Photos by Diana Hooley Idaho is not really a pig state. That distinction probably goes to our misnomer, Iowa, but I’ve always liked pigs. Growing up in the ’60s, I thought
A Family on the Move By Lena G. Hall Photos courtesy of Helen Wood The Fisher family of Eagle came to Idaho by wagon train from Iowa via Kansas in 1889, after so many moves that their descendants
As a farm kid, I faced some pretty scary bullies, but I knew the secrets to keeping them at bay. On our farm at the edge of the Clearwater National Forest just outside Grangeville, I faced my bullies at chore time. Continue reading
My spouse Jim is an avid fisherman. Did I say avid? He’s a fanatic about fishing. When I told him I was driving down to the new Springfield Fish Hatchery for sockeye salmon to interview the manager and have a tour of the facility there, he was more than ready to accompany me. “I’ll be your photographer,” he announced. Continue reading
When I was a kid, my family’s farm near Filer in southern Idaho was a magical place, where anything could happen.
We had parts and pieces of things all over the place—we could make forts, dig for queen ants, play with electricity (hot wire and hose pipe tricks), skip rocks, climb haystacks—you get the idea. What I didn’t know until I left was that growing up on a farm and being part of the operation was the best gift I ever could have received. Continue reading
