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From farm to city and back again: Listening and loving on the margins<\/a><\/blockquote>
Decades ago, as a child growing up in the rolling hills of Northeast Iowa, I would daydream of simpler times, of the days when people were pioneers and steadily establishing their families and homes and building communities upon frontiers.<\/p>\n
My younger sisters and I would gather in groves of cedar trees tucked into the hills and pastures and play “Little House,” inspired by the novels by Laura Ingalls Wilder. I would thumb through books tucked into my parents’ shelves, books like Back to Basics: How to Learn and Enjoy Traditional American Skills and 50 Simple Things Kids Can Do To Save The Earth, and ponder what it would have been like to live in the “olden days.”<\/p>\n
On steamy, sunny days in July, my younger sisters, cousins and I would put on pants and long-sleeved shirts and carry buckets half our body size into the deep woods. We’d crawl underneath berry bushes, pluck juicy deep purple blackcaps off thorny branches, rapidly fill our buckets, and scratch up our arms. Later we’d…<\/p>\n
[This is the beginning of my latest column for the online newspaper,\u00a0<\/em>Global Sisters Report.<\/a>\u00a0Continue reading\u00a0here<\/a>.]<\/em><\/p>\nFrom farm to city and back again: Listening and loving on the margins<\/a><\/blockquote>