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I am Cecilia. A New Zealander who farms in Illinois.

My farms are organic and regenerative and full of stories. I have been writing here about environmentally sustainable farming and food and travel since 2011.

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LATEST POSTS


  • Tima and Poppy

    Tima and Poppy

    I am willing to bet now, that Timatanga Moana is pregnant. There is a certain angle from behind (- so rude) where you can see the  pigs belly drooping downwards with the teats quite prominent. Like a bulge. Usually looking at a gilt from behind you see nothing. Now I can see the curve of her…

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  • Mr Flowers – the long awaited display.

    Mr Flowers – the long awaited display.

    And all is right with the world.  Just for that moment of yesterday afternoon in this corner of the world. Both my guest worker and The Cadet spent a considerable amount of time yesterday standing in the loft looking across at Mr Flowers. Open mouthed. This display lasted more than an hour.  Then they both went…

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  • Slow DOWN

    Slow DOWN

    I sat down last night to look at this paltry assortment of images ready to tell you about my day yesterday but too tired to write it all down. Slow down. My neighbour said when she came over to drop off egg cartons. Are you mental? I called out. She laughed. So: Whose nose is this?  Oh…

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  • Musical Chicks

    Musical Chicks

    Today or tomorrow my broiler chicks should arrive. They left McMurrays yesterday and will be delivered by the Post Office truck to the Postmistress then she calls me. So everyone moves along a chair – the Accident Chickens have been shifted out of the Halfway house and into the tin chicken tractor, the Easter chickens…

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  • Stroking

    Stroking

    When I am hand feeding a young animal like Naomi I do a lot of stroking. I am firm.  I mean; the hand that strokes is firm as I feed her. I pretend to be the licking hand of a great big cow. She always settles. Lifting her chin for the neck scratch. Moving her belly closer…

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  • Where are the pigs bowls…

    Where are the pigs bowls…

    Sheila my big fat pig still picks up her pigs bowl and takes it to bed with her.  Hiding them. By the time I find it – it is buried in the straw in her hut. Her version of breakfast in bed. It means that at least once a day I have to crawl into…

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