In his new autobiography, 'Capital Gaines,' Chip talks about the farm work - and he says he does, in fact, do it himself.
The farm is one field to the east of the railroad track that used to connect New Orleans with Chicago. The track runs beside Highway 45, an old U.S. route that unites Chicago with Mobile, Alabama.
I had a farm in Africa, at the foot of the Ngong Hills.
My father was in charge of managing the farm.
I produce schnapps on my farm but I'm not fond of drinking it.
E-I-E-I-O is actually a gross misspelling of the word farm.
I was brought up in a very rural area on grounds of a castle. It was a working farm, and I even remember the local shepherd wearing his Barbour jacket.
I can't wait to have kids one day. I want to have kids and a farm with lots of animals on a lake.
I have horses.
I had a ton of animals; I had a goat growing up, a bunch of rabbits, a vegetable garden.
To see the farm is to leave it.
I'm a farmer! We have a farm that's part of the National Tropical Botanical Garden on Maui, and we raise macadamia nuts.
I'm one of five kids and we lived on a massive farm in New South Wales with my mum and dad.
I've got a farm in Somerset, and I think it's God's own country. I love it.
I don't listen to music when I run; I like the quiet. It gives me time to think about my family, our businesses, the farm - there's not much I don't think about, to be honest.
My father is actually a quarry man - he deals in stone. He also at one point had a lot of sheep, he owned a sheep farm, but primarily the family business was in stone.
Extreme poverty lowers the character of the democracy. Measures should be taken which will give them [the poor] lasting prosperity. And as this is equally the interest of all classes, the proceeds of the public revenues should be accumulated and distributed among its poor, if possible in such quantities as may enable them to purchase a little farm ... or make a beginning in trade or husbandry.
I love mythology, grew up loving it. I'm a middle kid, big family, that's the thing you did in the farm country. I lived in Iowa, I loved mythology. I don't know, we're like that.
In the spring of 1978, when my parents were 23, my mother gave birth to me on their friend Robert's farm in Oregon with the help of two midwives. The labor and delivery took three hours, start to finish.
I still miss my gramma. I can see her at the farm, in her apron, babushka and support stockings. My Slovak gramma spoiled us with pig in the blankets, kalachi, pop, chips and a drawer full of lollipops. It was heaven.
My son, Arzhel, is two, and he eats vegetables twice a day. We have a vegetable garden on our farm in the Southwest, and he gets two baskets, one over each arm, and says, 'Garden, Papa!' and then he eats what he picks.
I came from a dirt farm, now I'm filthy rich.
It has long been a childhood dream of mine to have a farm.
In 1964, at the age of 39, Flannery O'Connor died from complications of lupus. She had lived with this autoimmune disease for 14 years, primarily confined to her mother's farm, Andalusia, in Milledgeville, Ga.
I had a few ducks as a kid.
