Personal Narrative: Dank Valley Farms

Me, Ava, Korryn, Ali, Olyvia, Bailey, and Sophie were on the way to valley fair. The loud and crowded car ride was filled with music, laughter and Sophie screaming! We got some drinks and snacks along the way and played pranks on the people that our nanny Bailey went to highschool with. About 2 hours later we were there and waiting in line to get wristbands. When we finally got our wristbands we walked in the gates of Valley Fair.

Chris, the deliveryman, is always friendly and has something pleasant to say. The meals are nutritious and I have something to eat regularly. This results in not having to do as much meal preparation and grocery shopping like I used to do.

Kylee Kohls, a product of Minnesota farmers pursues a career to insure the education about “Farm to Fork.”

I don’t remember much, I just remember not wanting to leave. The place I would be spending the rest of my life I had only visited a few times. I, only being two at the time, was absolutely terrified of moving. Moving. It seemed like the worst possible thing that could’ve happened then. At first, when we left, it felt the same as the last time I had gone there. Then the realization that I would be gone forever kicked in, and the fact that this time, my dad wasn’t coming with us. Just my mom and I.

Where I come from it's taking pride in your yard, knowing every single one of your neighbors, and leaving doors unlocked because there isn’t a thing to worry about. I find comfort in that small town feel, and I am more than proud to be from good ol’ Warrenton, Indiana. Here, we are just a wee bit shy of being big enough to be on a map, but we have a name and we have town lines. Within those lines nearly two hundred people have found a home, and thanks to Mr.Dave Gruible our community is steadily flourishing. There are now three subdivisions on the rise in addition to the church, salon, family restaurant, and campgrounds that nestled into the area years ago.

It's ok, a completely different atmosphere than summit (working In a Cubicle farm now). Each setting has its own positives as well as negatives. The work I'm doing this summer is much less client facing than summit (I'm working on the derivatives external reporting team, so we tell the federal reserve/sec what our Derivitives positions are). It's a good name on my resume, just trying to figure out what path I like better as a career.

At the request of the OCSO I responded to the scene in the town of Clay, (Onondaga County), New York on 02/19/2017. I arrived on scene at 19:33 and met with Deputy Tanya Wickline who briefed me regarding the case. The weather was cloudy with no precipitation with the outdoor temperature of 50⁰F.

I looked forward to this trip every single year. Driving to get there was almost better than the camping trip itself. The road had big hills that made your stomach drop on the way down, and I always pretended I was on a roller coaster. At the top of one of those hills, there was a wooden sign, painted brown with yellow letters, all in capitals, that said “WICKLUND’S CAMPGROUND”. The driveway was a simple, downhill dirt road that had a bend at the bottom of the decline. Driving around that corner, you could always see the lake sparkling through the thin line of trees because the sun was always shining. It was cloudy that day.

Growing up in a small town is something many people don’t have the opportunity to experience. On the other hand, some people who do get this chance don’t really think of it as being an “opportunity” or anything special. I would have to disagree; being raised in Caddo Mills, Texas has been such a blessing and has impacted me more than anything else in my life. It’s in this town that I grew up with my peers like a family. It’s here that I met the greatest circle of friends. It’s here that I had the opportunity to meet some of the best educators and receive an awesome education. Most importantly, it’s here that I made the decision to follow Christ. I’m extremely grateful that Caddo Mills is the place God lead my parents to raise my sister and me.

Hwy. 395, past a marker grandma green church of my childhood. Our post Ironman week was less than typical. Hence, we are home turning over flagging remnants of overgrown August herbs, a plethora of scarlet blistering shishito peppers, and multi colored bells, discovering another garden dinner in the doing. My mother often made stuffed bell peppers which began with blanched, whole peppers full of ground beef, bread crumbs, bacon, and raw Minute Rice which magically cooked the tiny white bits as they bathed in bubbling stewed tomatoes topped with American cheese. Sixty years later, my sister and I reminiscence about those delicious packages of meatloaf and buttery new

The first time I saw you, your smile mesmerized me and your laugh practically incapacitate my organism. Your mysterious eyes so profound that no conceivable mean to decipher the schema that your emotion unveil. The thought of you laughing right now can moisten the Mojave Desert; the echo of your voice is a manifestation equivalent to billions of neurotransmitters flushing into my hypothalamus at the speed of light. It enrages all the serotonin within my anatomy that I didn't know has existed. Now you know. And with silence, you have stolen my heart and every endogenous elements in my body. The thought of you has organically saturate the dopamine which will soon speed to my nuclei--everlastingly in my raphe core. The thought of you like testosterone

The Parsley Project involved the efforts of Ingrid Penrod, Blake Shrader, Christina Smith, and me. We did not know each other prior to this assignment but did our best to collaborate. None of us live in the same area which benefited the project in terms of our access to a number of different sites. Ingrid works in Logansport and grew up in North Manchester. Christina works in Peru and her mother-in-law is the head of the Charley Creek Gardens in Wabash. Blake works at a golf course near the Mississinewa Reservoir and lives in Greentown. All members agreed to collect samples near their homes.

I never dreamed of being in a band, not in a million years. One day I was at the monthly Jam at Center Stage Vintage Guitars. I always had a great time jamming with the people there. And I always brought my banjo to the jams. It started out just like they usually do when all of a sudden this guitar player came up to me and said, “I got to talk to you.” I was confused and felt like a cat with no claws because I didn't know what he wanted. He looked funny because his extremely curly hair was as long as a redwood tree. He introduced himself and a bass player next to him. The guitarist was Greg Sanders and the bass player was Neill Jones. Neill looked as short as a middle-schooler, although he was twenty three.

With the help of my mother and father, I constructed a raised-bed vegetable garden, which we completed the third week of October. We placed it next to our house so that the garden would be hit with plenty of sunlight. We used four pieces of plywood and nailed them to make a rectangular shaped container, the box was four feet wide, eight feet long, and a little less than twenty inches tall. We filled the box with ten inches of soil and later planted our vegetables we bought at Home Depot. We bought leeks, Chinese cabbage, Cauliflower, Savoy cabbage, and Mustard greens. I decided to start a garden because I’ve always had an interest in food and where it comes from.

Eighteen years ago Julie Carol Parton (my loving mother) and Ric Parton (my inspirational father) brought Logan Parton (that's me) into this unique and vastly changing world. Little did I know that one day I was going to set immensely challenging goals to achieve. I grew up in a small town, near the corner of Indiana, known as Vevay. For the early portions of my life I lived on a middle sized farm with my family. There always was two different perspectives within our household. On one side of the house there was my father and my oldest sister Christina, and on the other side was my mother and my middle sister Melisa. The perspective that my father and oldest sister shared was that they both felt the want to make money and move away from Vevay, on the other side my mother and middle sister had the mindset of wanting to be farmers and