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Letters To The Editor

My dad was a poor dirt farmer in the mountains of eastern Kentucky. Each spring he would fence off approximately 10' by 10' in the rich mud of the barnyard. Here he planted tomatoes. I'm telling you those tomatoes were big. It was nothing to see a small tomato the size of a basketball. A neighbor came by one day to purchase a bushel. He wouldn't take a whole tomato, and dad would ...

Farm Collector Staff

Farm Collector Magazine

Dedicated to the Preservation of Vintage Farm Equipment