Chris Hardie

The topic of aging has been on my mind a lot more lately, and with good reason. I recently crossed an aging Rubicon when I celebrated my 60th birthday.

Back in the days when I ran newsrooms, I was fond of telling folks that the simplest definition of news is “what people are talking about.”

Regular and faithful readers of my meanderings will recall that my name does not come up with the mention of fashion icons.

The big combines of today make short work of combining corn, moving up and down the fields, harvesting several rows of stalks at a time.

I knew the rainfall was heavy when I spotted overflowing creeks while driving home the night of Oct. 24.

Sometimes the beauty of the fall is as fleeting as the smile of a shy girl.

Let’s set the record straight – I am not an economist – which the Bureau of Labor Statistics defines as “an expert who studies the relationship between a society’s resources and its production or output, using a number of different indicators, in order to predict future trends.”

Last week I wrote about the remaining covered bridges in Wisconsin but I missed one that has a story to tell.

A year ago I wrote about some of the historic or memorable bridges that I have crossed or traveled to – including a few located near my home in western Wisconsin.

Did you know that the word squash comes from the Narragansett Native American word askutasquash, which means “eaten raw or uncooked?”