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Charlotte and Sheila have some time out
After their walk in the grass yesterday morning Sheila refused to go back into the pen, she passed the pig pen gate, and walked right to the barn then stood there and refused to come back. Apparently she and Charlotte are having a trial separation. Practicing for when the babies come. After a while I…
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Hot right to the bones
So hot in fact that I took off my farm trousers half way through the day and dug out my short farm skirts. It was delicious to free my legs again. Daisy made no comment, other than politely asking for sunglasses to protect her delicate eyes from the blinding white of my pale legs. The…
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Free days – when the farm feeds the farm.
There is something deeply satisfying about eating a meal from your own land, in a room you created. Home grown, grass fed steak, with asparagus from down the back and hollandaise using my own eggs and butter, a salad from the garden, cheese from Daisy’s milk followed by rhubarb from the garden and home made…
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My Mother’s Hands
My mother had dry, cool hands. When she rubbed them together they rasped, always cold, but warm. Mothers are many people. When my head…
The Kitchen's Garden 