Joyce Bupp

Columnist Joyce Bupp takes a stroll around the pond on the farm, checking on the mating Canada geese that return every year. The gander is not pleased with the visit.

It seems to me the celebration of Saint Patrick’s Day should come in April.

Columnist Joyce Bupp’s hands tell the story of her gardening efforts. Perhaps it’s time for a commemoration of gardeners’ soil-stained fingers and nails as they eagerly plant seeds and starts

Columnist Joyce Bupp helps a feathered friend who took a wrong turn into her house.

Plant. Water. Repeat. That’s been my mantra — and lots of other people’s as well — since the first young plant seedlings went into the ground around here weeks ago.

Finding a snapping turtle far from water can happen during nesting season. Columnist Joyce Bupp is startled by a snappy visitor in her garden.

So many of us wrestle with the same daily dilemma. Day after day after day. What do I fix for lunch... or for supper?

Columnist Joyce Bupp welcomes summer to the farm with thorny roses, ripening black raspberries that the birds snitch and putting up the storm windows on the old triple-track windows.

Now where was it? I’d looked at the usual likely spots, and it was nowhere to be found.

The year was 1776.