Hands holding grain©Mint Images/Rex Shutterstock
For some reason, that probably lies deep in my subconscious, I think about Dad a lot at harvest time. He died in autumn 2007, so this is the ninth harvest without him. As I sit in the solitary confinement of the combine cab or minding the dryer, I find he still speaks to me. Just to be clear, I’m not one of those ouija board types who thinks they get visits from “the other side”. It’s more just the imprint […]