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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


  • They’re waiting for Godot

    “Let’s go.” “We can’t.” “Why not?” “We’re waiting for Godot.”  Samuel Becket. Waiting for Godot. The barn flock have been rehearsing these lines all winter. Well, since the freeze anyway.  Waiting. When I find another peacock for the hens maybe I should call him Godot. I have another favourite line from this play. (I have…

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  • Bees and Bees and Baby Bumps

    So much good news. I was clearing the bees doorway yesterday afternoon.  It was above freezing and such a beautiful day without a breath of wind. I put my ear to the beehive and there they were, making their disapproval  known with a deep far away baseball cheer of buzzing. Good bees. Later in the…

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  • Light Sun. Sunlight

    The sun poured all over the little farm and all her creatures yesterday. Molten golden light of sun. The house warmed right up. Ah, we all said, who cares about the house?.. and stayed outside too long. Making tracks to and fro in the snow. Chatting.  Sheila was being very vocal yesterday.  Quite the Queen.…

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  • A drop. A Promise.

    We are surrounded in white on white, cold on cold, the hunch and squeak of boots on packed snow beginning to sound like fingernails on a black-board made for chalk.   The night before last was -11 (-23C), last night was -21( -30C).  As I write just before dawn the temperature  continues  on its toboggan…

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  • Sheila the Pig carrying her Bowl

    I had just taken this shot of Queenie Wineti standing knee deep in snow enjoying the sun when I was almost run down by Sheila carrying her lunch inside.  We were on a pause, Sheila was standing in the snow eating her medicine mixed with shredded apples and carrots. I was standing in the doorway…

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  • Meadow in the Snow

    Yesterday was a snowy day but a very calm one. We seem to be drifting down  into a sentient state, exacerbated by the inability to move about freely,  where everything is felt and only just heard, like a song sung  by an unnamed stranger far off down the road, its message just out of reach,…

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