Once upon a time there was a farm girl. She loved cows. Their smell. Their fuzzy necks. Their wet, black noses. Their ability to provide her family with gallons and gallons of delicious, raw milk. And the love story goes on and on. Insert the family cow. By the way, that farm girl is me.
I didn’t intend to be lambing in winter. Aren’t lambs naturally supposed to come in the spring time? Isn’t that just the way that nature works or something? Oh wait. Shouldn’t I also know by now that nothing just ‘works’ like that? There’s always a few twists and turns to keep us on our toes as farmers.
Oh, hello world. You’re still there. Happy to see it! What I know of the world has been consumed by a variety of heaviness these past few weeks: the stress of relocating the animals, the children, the moving of 1,391 pounds of canned goods we had stored away for winter. The heaviness of the most
Last Thursday afternoon, I had to experience one of those those moments that no person wants to experience. One of those experiences that you so badly wish you could undo. Unlive. Unsee. The death of a companion. My Toby-turd. The sun had peeked out for the first time in over a week and the weather
It was the long, brown curls that hung in front of his eyes that captured my heart. From the moment I first saw Hugh Ferring-Wittingstale on River Cottage years ago, I was totally in love. So when Hugh moved to the country and fell in love with his beloved Dorset sheep… well, I did too.
I decided to crash amongst the chaos, submit to the never ending piles of boxes and trash, and reminisce. I need time to take a deep breath, to really see my surroundings, to really interact with all that encompasses this farm. Because we’ve only got a week left. And then it’s… Goodbye Farm. Sunnier Days
Hello. Can you hear me? Or is my voice muffled through the foot and a half of fresh, powdery snow that is currently covering the homestead? I hope you can hear me. Because I’ve got some things to say, yo. After all – it’s almost Christmas! Time for love and mushy stuff and reflection and
Wash Eggs Like A Boss, Baby. Winter time is not a clean time on the farm. Just yesterday, as I was out throwing kitchen scraps to the pigs, I nearly face planted into the muck after my rubber boots got stuck in the deep sludge. There were slurping noises. And waving arms. And perhaps a
Sometimes the Lord chooses to answer our desperate cries quickly! Man, oh man, did this happen fast! In the context of The Elliott Homestead, this is huge news! And great news. Ya’ll. We bought a farm. Do you like how before I drop a bomb I always say ‘y’all’? I blame it on my Southern husband.
It’s funny, but here on the farm, meat doesn’t come in packages. “Whole, skinless, boneless, chicken breasts”. Nope. And as convenient as that would be at times, it just ain’t the way the good Lord designed in. Chickens come with: 2 wings 2 legs and 2 thighs 2 breasts 2 “oysters” 2 feet 1 neck