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Free to a Good Home is about small farms and big dogs; farmers, their families and friends; bird feeders and feeders of birds; dust and rust; stone walls and other fences; New Hampshire's First-In-The-Nation-Primary and other entertainment; a few laughs and a few tears. (excerpt) "...Janet, Maggie, and I lay between the rows of blueberries, listening to the slight rustling of the corn and the soft, endless chirp of peepers from the trees, enjoying the sweet, familiar smell of the ripe berries, mesmerized by the grandeur of the Perseid meteor shower. Fresh from chasing frogs in the swamp,…mehr

Produktbeschreibung
Free to a Good Home is about small farms and big dogs; farmers, their families and friends; bird feeders and feeders of birds; dust and rust; stone walls and other fences; New Hampshire's First-In-The-Nation-Primary and other entertainment; a few laughs and a few tears. (excerpt) "...Janet, Maggie, and I lay between the rows of blueberries, listening to the slight rustling of the corn and the soft, endless chirp of peepers from the trees, enjoying the sweet, familiar smell of the ripe berries, mesmerized by the grandeur of the Perseid meteor shower. Fresh from chasing frogs in the swamp, Maggie fitted herself between us, her muddy feet and fur still dripping of swamp water, soiling and soaking our clothes ... (excerpt) Free to a Good Home. The cynic in me believes that nothing is free but I'm enough of a romantic to believe at times that everything is free. Maggie was named because of Margaret Thatcher. We already had a dog named Thatcher and Janet couldn't resist naming the six-month-old, sixty-five pound 'Free to a good home' female puppy of indeterminate breeding, Margaret. We called her Maggie and sometimes Margaret S. Dog. She would respond to any of these names if she considered it to be in her best interest and respond to none of them if not."
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Autorenporträt
David Lambert was born in 1942 in Norwich, Connecticut. At the start of WW2, his father found work at the Portsmouth Naval Shipyard, and the family moved to Kittery, Maine. At war's end, they bought the small farm on Moulton Ridge Road in Kensington, New Hampshire, and except for an enlistment in the Marine Corps after high school, David didn't leave Moulton Ridge Road for seventy years; but for stairs and Parkinson's disease, he would live there still. "Surrounded by dogs, loving family, and old farm machines, could life have been any better?"