The Farm Novels & Stories

"Everything that is grown in this farm is intended to be consumed at home, they are all organic and free of pollution. When we can't finish them, we'll sell them to others. Under Bilinsk International, the crops are branded as organic and we supply them to areas where the wealthy people live. There is another larger industrialized pollution free farm in a more remote area. The land is bigger and we export agricultural produce abroad every year. These were all your ideas and the yearly revenue is extraordinary. Not only that, we also own a holiday villa resort nearby." After talking about the business, he pointed to the cornfield as he casually added an interesting remark without batting an e

He finally did and started the ignition. "What was your brother talking about?" He shook his head. "You don't give up do you?" "No…" "I'm taking you to the farm and showing you the wine refinery. Trust me you'd love it." It sounded exciting. *** He didn't call it the field. He said "farm." I tried to picture him like a man who would live farming and agriculture but no, the imagery was tainted. In fact, it didn't exist. Probably because the image I have of him was so strong that it was difficult to drain it in my mind.

"Yeah, it's from our farm." Oakwood is a two to three hour drive away from the city. Noah plans to use their old delivery truck to go to their farm every harvest season to pick up and sell their crops. Mr. Cruz, a farmer and close friend of their halmeoni (grandmother) takes care of their land in Oakwood. Beth just gives her co-farmer some incentives for this.

The old man chuckled. The farm was not far from the riverside. As soon as he stepped in the farm area, field crops enticed his eyes. He wasn’t a fan of raw vegetables, but he had to eat some for dinner because Mewria insisted him to eat veggies. It was quite good, although he still likes fishes better. Fish rules! He walked around the field and to the small path between the farm squares, and soon, he reached the grassy clearing where the Farmer usually let the chickens and moomoos roam.

"You're interested in taking this farm off my hands?" "Yes, Mr. Lane," Helen nodded. "Hoho. Then do you know how much this farm costs, along with the maintenance fees and the rest?" Mark chuckled, holding the saddle as he pointed at a distant river. "That farmland over there, where we grow various fruits and vegetables, is the size of two villages. That's around seven square kilometers of land there." Then, pointing southeast, Mark continued, "Over there are the horse stables and woods where fruit trees are grown. It's around seven square kilometers too… Oh, and there's also livestock."

she said with a smile. As the sun began to set, Damian and Joy went home feeling more satisfied than ever. They knew that every time they returned to the farm, there was always something new to learn and enjoy. The farm was not only a playground for them, but also a place where they could learn about nature. A few weeks after their last visit, Damian and Joy were looking forward to returning to the farm. They were eager to see if the seeds they planted had started to grow, and also missed the animals. One fine morning, they decided to return to the farm with their p

After the couple had their late lunch, Dean went back to the farm with Sean. The farmers happily greeted the couple when they saw them getting off the truck. Dean showed his husband around the farm. Sean was surprised to see the new tractors and other farming equipment and also a lot of new built greenhouses. No wonder Dean was so busy.

The sun was high and hot over the farm, turning the fields into a golden haze. Everyone was busy. The air was thick with the smell of dry grass, dust, and hard work. Sarah and the other workers were further down the field, but Greg was taking a break near the old barn. He was sitting on a pile of yellow straw, leaning back against a wooden post.

Seemed like a good idea. In Wellington, a 'farm' is ten acres, every inch landscaped, except for the horse ring that is raked dirt. Not a turd in sight and a stable that you could eat off the floor. Farm my ass.

“Can we go now?” “Have a nice holiday, Christie! I’ll call you! I love you!” Mom yelled after me. I didn’t answer. ** The drive was long and humid. Outside the window, the city faded into flat, dusty stretches of land. The “farm city” was basically just one long main road lined with rusted wire fences, old wooden barns, and vast fields of golden corn and greenery. The people working on the farms wore large straw hats, shielding them from the scorching heat of the sun. Everywhere smelled faintly of manure and dry grass.