| Seasonal advice, wit, and wisdom from your editors | | | |  Announced by all the trumpets of the sky, Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields, Seems nowhere to alight: the whited air Hides hills and woods, the river, and the heaven, And veils the farm-house at the garden's end. –Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803–82) | | | THE OLD FARMER SELECTED THESE PRODUCTS FOR YOU | View Web Version
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