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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


  • Ploughed out – again

    I still love the snow. But I am always grateful when I see the snow-plough rushing down our little gravel road clearing a path for me. Sunday yesterday. A quiet day. Look at this naughty big fat pig following me around bossing everybody about. Her wound from the boar bite is not looking too good,…

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  • Peahen on the Barn

    We had about three inches of snow yesterday, maybe more it is hard to judge. Then we had ice rain down on it, then it snowed again, then ice rained down on that. Then it got warm enough for the tops of the snow to melt a little, then it froze again. So by late…

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  • The snow stood still in the air.. thinking its little think

    The wind died  down yesterday. I don’t care how it died frankly, as long as it was gone. We all crept up out from behind our shelters, sniffing the air. The snow gently falling, in no hurry to go anywhere. Did you see Mama, she seldom comes out into the field nowadays. Preferring to stick…

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  • Guess who has come home!

    I got up before dawn yesterday morning, after a night fretting about Sheila and decided to bring her home. That is that, I thought. Bad weather was coming again. She was not well. I told the nice young fella that I was worried about the limping and her wound and I might come and take…

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  • How do you open a door?

    I have always wondered this.  How do you open a door? Do you step up turn the doorknob, push the door in a little,  just wide enough to slip through, then shut it behind you.  This is what I do in the winter. In the summer the doors are open wide all day and all…

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  • Marmalade poses as Dennis the Menace

    Marmalade, your wee puss, raised  by hand since he was only a couple of weeks old,  is a horror. He seldom touches the floor, preferring to zoom about the room flying from chairs to tables to couch to sideboard, leaving a  frothy broken tide of disaster in his wake and trailing wild dogs and cats…

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