“Mark came home late one frozen Sunday carrying a bag of small, silver fish. They were smelts, locally known as icefish. He’d brought them at the store in the next town south, across from which a little village had sprung… — Kristin Kimball Copy Share Image
“There is no such thing as escape after all, only an exchange of one set of difficulties for another. It wasn't Mark or the… — Kristin Kimball Copy Share Image
“We drove out of New Paltz heading due north. Squeezed into my tiny hatchback, among our boxes and bags, were my dog, Nico, the… — Kristin Kimball Copy Share Image
“I was forced to confront my own prejudice. I had come to the farm with the unarticulated belief that concrete things were for dumb… — Kristin Kimball Copy Share Image
“When we walked the mowed margins of the field in the evenings, a school of black crickets sprang ahead of us like dolphins in… — Kristin Kimball Copy Share Image
“My Dad was sad that he saw us working so hard on something that was destined to fail.” — Kristin Kimball Copy Share Image
“So there I was eating haute cuisine in a mobile home. He cooked for me as seduction, a courtship, so that I'd never again… — Kristin Kimball Copy Share Image
“Grow it right, and you feel insanely rich, no matter what you own.” — Kristin Kimball Copy Share Image
“Mark came home late one frozen Sunday carrying a bag of small, silver fish. They were smelts, locally known as icefish. He’d brought them… — Kristin Kimball Copy Share Image
“Without me to struggle against, without the constant chaos of our first growing season, without the pressure of our impending wedding, he seemed to… — Kristin Kimball Copy Share Image
“Maybe most important, farm food itself is totally different from what most people now think of as food: none of those colorful boxed and… — Kristin Kimball Copy Share Image
“A farm is a manipulative creature. There is no such thing as finished. Work comes in a stream and has no end. There are… — Kristin Kimball Copy Share Image
