Author Archives: Rebecca White Body

Country Bonding

A few days ago, I left my garden and was approaching the house when suddenly, I was transfixed by the sweetness of the scene before me: Sage was embracing his father, who was lying in the hammock. Sage’s head was lying upon Paul’s, and the timeless tenderness of this scene almost moved me to tears. Then […]

The Wild Garden

Despite my intentions to make this year’s garden an orderly piece of living art–or at least almost as neat as my Amish neighbors’ gardens–the plants had other ideas. I’d laid the garden out to be pleasingly symmetrical, with corn hills at each corner and a row of broccoli along the front, but I couldn’t resist […]

Running with the Big Birds

It ain’t easy being a chick, especially if you’re running with the Big Birds for the first time. That’s what my little birds learned the hard way today. They’d been spending their days staring plaintively through the mesh of their chicken tractor–a cage within the large chicken pen where they can get some fresh air […]

The Tribulations of Being a Chick

My little chicks are growing up; the day-old fuzzballs who first came home with me are now gangly adolescents. They’re too big to stay in their cardboard box all day but too small to be released among the old-timers, so they’ve been spending their days in a mesh-sided cage within the larger chicken pen. All […]

Of Trombones and Soccer Balls

I knew it would happen, and now it has: I’m a soccer mom. Not only that, I’m a music mom. The last few days have been a scramble to get Sage to band lessons and soccer games; my respect for parents who have to manage schedules for multiple children has increased exponentially. (THEY should be […]

Last Day of Fourth Grade

June 6 was Sage’s last day as a fourth grader, and I admit I’m already feeling nostalgic. Ever since I tutored my first fourth grader, I’ve considered this grade to be the Gold Standard of Childhood: Fourth graders are old enough to be interesting and somewhat independent, but they’re not (for the most part) jerks. […]

Farmer Sage

When my neighbor Elaine hailed me from her front porch, I thought we were just in for a neighborly chat: Little did I know that Destiny was at work. Elaine is a neighbor, but only by country standards; her house is at least a quarter mile down the road from mine. So I was delighted […]