At five-thirty on Friday morning, Bernice had the water and oatmeal boiling, bacon strips laid out in the skillet, and...
Paul: Looks like some kids have messed up the book box again. Any ideas who? Michelle: @Trish Jones – your...
As the sun began to top the trees, you could tell today would be another scorcher. One of the hottest...
I was nine the year my Pa couldn’t find work and the Albergotti family became part of my life. Everyone...
When Bob was married, he went hunting two or three times a year, but just getting out seemed more important...
How peculiar. Before, David had turned off the main road, walked up the potholed lane, climbed over a rickety stile,...
The bustle of aunts, uncles, and cousins crammed inside Mamaw’s tiny wooden house scraped against David’s sixteen-year-old sensibilities. Piled on...
Neil knew he should be the one to start the neighbour’s combining this year. At seventy-nine, his father’s neck is...
The offerings were ready, and I thought that my lion cat must be hungry. It was a blistering summer day....
THE PARLOR is a series on The Milk House that embraces the lighter side of rural life. You can find...
The inaugural Best in Rural Writing Contest has now come to an end. The Milk House is grateful to the...
Emerging from the fog bank, the Beatrix appeared before them, a sleeping leviathan suddenly filling their vision in the twilight...