Donna Grossman Mosaics

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8 Hands Farm, Cutchogue Long Island
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It has not been a kind winter. The snow once beautiful is now simply annoying. We in suburbia are tired of scraping windshields, shoveling driveways, waiting for late trains and dealing with bored kids that have had one too many snow days.
I am lucky. My son is grown. I work from home. There is plenty of provisions in the pantry for husband and pets.
But I still grumble, I complain on all types of social media and plan the demise of the groundhog.
I am a whiner and a baby.
The woman who works at this farm is not. She raises sheep and pigs and chickens. She is frostbitten and fatigued. She works from dawn to dusk. When the work day is done she goes home to her son and is the best mom a boy could ever have.
And she wouldn’t have it any other way.
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