It sat back in the corner of the back yard, about thirty feet from the house. A connecting sidewalk was barely visible in the long grass (mowing it wa... on my "to-do" list). It ran from the back steps to the back door of the garage. I stepped into the dim garage and inhaled that dusty aroma most old garages have: a mixture of dust, grease, old oil and just general musty air. I looked around and tried to decide where to begin. My eye finally settled on the old workbench against the back wall.Mary. ‘Have you worked on a farm before?’ Trish asked. ‘No, I’ve heard stories from a neighbor about when she was a small girl. Someone will have to show me what to do around here.’ ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘We’ll get the silage down first.’ We walked through a shed and out into the holding pen, through the swing gate, and up the silo. I followed and slid through the 19th door. We stood atop the silage, cut from the past year. There were two silage forks, Trish grabbed one and I took the other. These. More

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