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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
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Off Out to the Beach TODAY
When I travel I jog from one son or brother or sister to another and then one friend to another dragging my little cabin bag behind me like an obedient dog. I am in the process of re-packing my little cabin bag up again. Finding anything that has drifted out of place. Rolling and stowing…
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Decay Time: The Reverberation of Words
The time it takes for a sound to hang in suspense like that is called decay time. Or. Reverberation time. It’s half life will depend on the acoustics of course. Some sounds will last longer than others. If the sound or the word is pronounced in a room with perfect acoustics and the listener is…
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The First Real New Zealand Day
I found myself floundering a little these first few days in New Zealand. We had a death on the farm. Which knocked me sideways. But yesterday finally I walked and found my feet and began to smell the air and hear the Tuis. Where I grew up – on a beach in New Zealand –…
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Sadly Mr Flowers has Passed Over
Yesterday morning Our John found Mr Flowers dead under his usual night-time perch in the barn. Dead on the floor. There was no evidence of a predator. No battle. He appears to have died in his sleep. and fallen off his perch. It is a miserable loss to the farm. To us. John dug a…
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The Walk and The landing
The world is out of kilter when I have no farm animals to manage. So I set my mind to writing. And as you and I have established; the first thing I set up on arrival anywhere is my writing corner. Yesterday I set up my office on the long wooden table. Gently relocating laundry…
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The Family Web of Survival
Most of what we do is mere survival. We assume it means nothing. Cleaning. Bathing. Avoiding the phone. Sleeping. Eating. Washing our hair. Sitting on the toilet thinking. Sweeping the floor. Grocery shopping. The smile for the person in the store. Food for our friends chased from their homes into our gutters. Mascara. Fighting the…
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Letters To My Mother
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