the winter air turns georgia cold

as the winter air turns georgia cold, and the thermometer cracks forty, people aren’t the only thing that act cold.  the pasture slows too—billions of living things beneath the surface of the grass decrescendo to a crawl.  the grass seems to grow ever more green by the day, but can’t muster the energy to grow upwards—sort of like, ok boys, hold your ground now—we’ll get through this.  

the herd remains content growing fat on endless hay.  today we spent a few hours, in those early-winter gusts, finishing off a fence line we started a few weeks ago.  the job is done, the cows are happy, and the pastures are resting over @fowlerfarms.

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the foreground is the pasture we are utilizing for hay feeding, and the background is a resting pasture

association

farm to table.  that’s what they say.  but not like this guy, they don’t.  these pictures are obviously related, but not in the “we just ground this pig up for sausage” sort of way.  in fact, he’s just a wee little guy.  that’s our buddy brutus, the swollen bellied offspring of our late sow oprah.  we bottle fed him once his mother died.

the association—not brutus—has to do with the jolly faced assaulter violating the little fella. farm255’s farmer-sous chef jacobia o’françois.  a new breed, in my opinion.  like all the benefits that come from enjoying a local food system, the closer you are to the source, the higher quality product you can obtain.  the higher quality product you desire, too.

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the second pic is from chef francois helping me make my very first batch of sausages from scratch.  cranberry, hard cider, bacon (mine), and onion.  dee.  lish. 

a teedle ee do tee day

tee dum, tee dee
a teedle ee do tee day
we’re out for fun
and this is the game we play:
come on, join in
and sing your troubles away
with a teedle ee dum
a teedle do tee day
we’re following the leader, the leader, the leader
we’re following the leader wherever he may go.

the poo man shoveleth

the cows suspiciously circled as he shoveled their poo into the wheelbarrow. why now, they moo’ed? after all this time. but the man was dertermined, and not even an encoraching herd could stop him from shoveling poo.

soon, though, like all people, he left. minutes later, and the cows returned to the poo man’s freshly shoveled pasture and shat all over his work.

hay is for cows

since the herd is holding a zone, as opposed to rotating, i have taken to shoveling up some of their excess manure for use as a soil amendment.  what amazes me, is the fact that our cows—who are still on pasture, with plenty of grass to roam—generate enough excrement for a pile up to appear noticeable after just a few days of eating in the same place (fifty lbs a day/cow).

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today in the life six am wake up seven am

today in the life.

six am- wake up

seven am- omelet:  eggs laid yesterday, a friend’s peppers, bacon i made myself (from my first pig i ever bought), and a raw, grassfed blue cheese made on a nearby farm.  tea, with a friend’s bees’ honey

eight am- checking in with the herd

nine am-  digging holes and building fences- eleven am

noon- killing thanksgiving turkeys – one pm

two pm- grind pork chunks for sausage making

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