The passing of time on a farm is marked by empty bags of grain, refilled waterers, ripening tomatoes, and growing babies. Our ducks, who were once so small that they couldn't be contained inside the small bars of a dog crate, have now outgrown the coop we built for them. Our pigs outgrew the feeder we made for them, their shoulders growing too wide to fit four-abreast. When we first got them, all five could eat from one feeder at the same time [albeit with some squealing].
The rotational nature of growing living things is entrancing, hypnotizing, steady. By the time you catch up on one corner of the farm, another has grown wild and needs attention. So it is, too, with the seasons. The bursting greens of spring, the scorching haze of summer, the bounty of autumn, the halting blanket of winter.
With September looming just around the corner, we are starting to think of wintry solutions to what surely will be problems with our methods of feeding and watering everyone. Currently, you can stumble outside in pajamas and flipflops to take care of morning chores. A few crisp mornings with dew resting heavy on the grass jolted us into the reality that soon, we will need to be all layered up before we venture outside. Reality bites. But it also means an end to the frenetic garden-watering and grass-mowing and fence-building, at least until spring decides to come around again.
The local magazine Capital Gains was kind enough to interview me recently, for an article about eating ethical meat. I'm always happy to talk about why Christian and I are doing what we're doing. Check it out below!
Conscientious Flexitarians— eating the right meat
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