Brent Olson

1 week ago | agupdate.com | Brent Olson

It's funny how often old stories still work. There's a long-abandoned farm site a mile or so from our house. My guess is I'm the only person alive who knows that's where my father was born. Anyway, I noticed some work going on around it - tree cutting, a little digging, etc. The only structure remaining was an old windmill. Pretty much worthless, peppered with bullet holes the way old wind turbines are in this part of the world.

3 weeks ago | agupdate.com | Brent Olson

The first week in June on the prairie ... not too bad. At 70–plus, this is my first summer of unemployment since I was 9. It's a little disconcerting, but I have to admit I'm liking it. The biggest perk? Ruining fewer shirts. I can't tell you the number of dress shirts that have ended up in the work shirt drawer after I spilled some sort of greasy food on them because I was eating and driving, scurrying from one thing to something else. I'm doing far less scurrying now.

4 weeks ago | agupdate.com | Brent Olson

Happiness comes in many shapes. A grandchild's giggle, a sunset over water, a familiar song playing and accompanied at a whisper by a voice you've loved for half a century – and today it came to me on a piece of grimy cardboard. A mile from our house is a few acres of prairie I'm trying to turn into a savanna. If you don't know what that is, look it up. I've only got about 500 words to work with here. Anyway, I have eight heirloom apple trees planted there, scattered hither and yon.

1 month ago | agupdate.com | Brent Olson

I admit, this is a lot of bother for a fresh fish. We have a half-acre pond on our farm, dating back to when I was a hog farmer. You don’t want to know what it was used for, just that now, 30 years later, it’s full of fresh clean water. I’ve been toying with the idea of dumping some bluegills in it so I have something to entertain me in my declining years. I understand that Minnesota is the Land of 10,000 Lakes, many of which are full of fish.

1 month ago | agupdate.com | Brent Olson

It must be spring. The little white things are blooming. Every year they’re the first blossoms I see and every year I ask my wife what they’re called, She tells me, and thirty seconds later I forget. It’s the same thing with the bird feeder. We have big birds with red heads, little birds with a tiny red cap, yellow birds and quite a few brown birds of varying sizes. I am reasonably confident that with time and effort I could learn all their names. Well, their species names.