Camp Greenhorn
In the ’60s, I was a skinny, unhappy teenage city kid who preferred spending my spare time in farm fields and woodlots. In the summer, I worked long hours at a riding stable to get free rides on their crazy rental horses. I regularly brought home mangy barn cats, a large chicken and stained, malodorous clothes. My mother dropped me off at her cousin’s farm in August for a month, hoping to cure me of my obsession with
