I was born on a farm. My strength has nothing to do with political apparatus. I get my strength from nature, from flowers.
If you’re buying animal products and can go to the farm and actually see how the animals are looked after, yes, that’s an important point. That’s definitely the best way of assuring yourself that the animals are being well treated.
It’s hard to believe President George Bush gave a speech in New Orleans about disaster recovery and failed to mention the word ‘farm’ or the word ‘rural.’
When I lived summers at my grandparents’ farm, haying with my grandfather from 1938 to 1945, my dear grandmother Kate cooked abominably. For noon dinners, we might eat three days of fricasseed chicken from a setting hen that had boiled twelve hours.
I have lived and slept in the same bed with English countesses and Prussian farm women… no woman has excited passions among women more than I have.
I rode horseback three miles each way to get to high school, and in bad weather it was a problem sometimes to make my eight o’clock class on time. Like others, I often missed school to help on the farm, especially in the fall, until after harvest, and in the spring, during planting season.
I would like to be on the farm. To ride the horses. To watch the cattle, and the plantations, and the beautiful vegetables that my sons are growing there. I would like it. I am one of those who do not have to worry about what I am doing later. I love the fields.
What is a farm but a mute gospel?
In those days, when you got boxed, that was it. A lot of old people were there because somebody wanted the farm. It was about property. People are treated like property.
In 1964, at the age of 39, Flannery O’Connor died from complications of lupus. She had lived with this autoimmune disease for 14 years, primarily confined to her mother’s farm, Andalusia, in Milledgeville, Ga.