Fond recollection

About this book

March departed like a lamb in 1918, its last Friday so bright and comfortable that I scarcely noticed the lingering chill of winter in the 1859 farmhouse filled with the disorder of unpacking as we moved to Brimfield from Wadsworth, Ohio, where my father, aged 47, had gladly quit his four years of punching a time clock at the Ohio Match Company to have a farm of his own at last.