This humble gazette bears the name of the special place where I was born, raised and reside. Logically a newspaper about a place, would periodically carry news of the place. But this place, Bentley Farm, has not generated a lot of news recently.
Bentley Farm is in an unspoken hiatus of sorts. Its only real claim to life right now is a flock of about fifteen chickens that employ Caleb and give him a small wage. The economy has certainly affected all of us, but to Bentley Farm it has brought a season of deep hibernation. The bustle of activity that was building homes and roads and sewer systems is completely silenced. Nature alone is controlling the landscape of this place for the present time - perhaps nature even so much as favors a suffering economy.
Bentley Farm, despite its widened roads and half-inserted pipelines is still a beautiful place. But for now it is a quiet place, a place at rest that doesn't generate a whole lot of news. Bentley Farm has seen sleepless days: days where the plow didn't rest from dawn to dusk, days where the kicker of the John Deere baler thrusted on end, days where the chug-a-chug-a-chug of the old vacuum pump for the milk line ran incessantly. Maybe one day these sleepless days will return.
But, for now, as all things must eventually do, Bentley Farm sleeps.