|This future farm hand stepped in a cow pie|
Signs of early fall in Pace, Florida: hummingbirds zip around our hibiscuses, butterflies flit alongside every road, crisp apples at the store, the sun is lower in the sky, birthday season.
I tried to be all ‘local’ one time and drove 35 minutes north to a farm to buy eggs, plants and produce like a sucker. I ended up with two dead partially developed chicks in my dozen eggs. Gross. Someone more organic and local than me (which would be pretty much anyone) could probably give some commentary on our spoiled lives being too far removed from death, etc etc etc, but ever since then I’ve gotten my 99 cents per dozen washed eggs at the grocery store with nice little boneless yellow yolks. We hardly eat eggs anyway.
More recently, I like listening to intelligent people I admire conversing earnestly about the dairy farm where they buy their Farm Girl Produce milk (Liz, Dora). Or grinding their own wheat and making bread (Jenny).
|Farm Girl took us around to meet the calves, pup, etc.|
|Another beautiful September day in Florida|
|This charming lane, canopied by live oaks, leads to the milk|
|It only takes about five minutes to pump six or seven gallons of milk per cow!!|
|We left Mouse at home, dreaming of being a dairy farm cat|