|Posted by don on February 20, 2015 at 11:20 AM||comments (0)|
Toes and fingers frozen, fur frozen, teats warm, glasses fogged, hands working by memory, bodies huddled on a frozen bench. Wind howling, milk flowing, goats slipping, door frozen, snow swirling as goats switch their stations. Working girls are we. In and out , squirt and freeze. Paths invisible, feet stumbling, milk totes clanking. Joys of hand milking in a blizzard on a goat farm in Maine. 2015
|Posted by don on June 13, 2012 at 2:20 PM||comments (0)|
Life is busily cruising along. We are going strong with a full selection of cheeses and salad mix DAILY!!! We have been talking about local issues surronding around food lately and when this happens I am always so happy to live in such a great area where people actually care and want to help people! Who knows hat the future would hold for our farm but this year we will be bringing any day old salad mix to the Jonesport Food Pantry and maybe other area food pntries. We are excited to commit to this small contribution and think maybe a community garden is in our future! Stay tuned!
Also next week-6/18/12 kicks off our healthy meal kitchen. See menu page! All my busy Mom friends are in mind when I say now you can pick dinner up here, reheat and know you are cooking good, healthy, local dinner for your family! Yumm!
|Posted by don on May 23, 2012 at 7:50 PM||comments (0)|
6:15 this morning had me out the door and off to pick the greens for the Machias Buying Club Market day. To some of you this may not sound like heaven but to me, ahhh. I do not know why this now weekly ritual moves me, calms me and has me yearning for Wednesday mornings. It could be the light at that time of day, the fresh air, the sounds or lack of sounds, who knows. I have my suspicions and I will share them with you now.
As a young child one of my earliest, happiest memories was visiting my Grandpa. Not to unusual for most children but one particular memory fills my sences and brings me back to 4, 5 or 6 years old in an instant. My memory is of waking up on the uncomfy pull out couch very early in the morning and peeking through the old metal blinds at my Grandpa running through his garden chasing rabbits away from the lettuce. It happened very often and always the same so these memories have melded in to the way it always was!
My Granpa was from Czhecoslovakia and lived in the city (NYC) for most of his adult life until he bought a small house in Hampton Bays, LI to have an escape from the city where he could farm and fish. It is funny to think back on this as an adult. Perhaps something that drew him out of the city also drew me out of suburbia.
It is so curious when I do think about the calm and peace I find in dirt. Is it the act of planting, cultivating and providing food for those around us that draws us to the earth or do we still just want to play in the dirt? Were my childhood memories what drew me to this way of life, the influences of those around me or mybe something more primal? Who knows but go play in the dirt and see how you feel.