Last week i read "The Dirty Life: A Memoir of Farming, Food, and Love". It's a true story of a New York City girl who falls in love with a Bohemian Farmer. Together they farm 500 acres with plow horses and little modern conveniences. Even though we live in town, my heart has always lived on the farm. My heart thinks we have a half acre garden, two dozen chickens, a dozen happy children, rabbits and maybe a lamb or two grazing in the pasture. On our farm there is a wonderful pottery studio where i make all our dishes in a wood burning kiln.
Mitch, our 14 year old son, and I decided we would try rustic farm living for a week. On Monday we made granola and whole wheat bread. We decided we would only eat things that we theoretically could produce. On Tuesday we made homemade butter out of heavy whipping cream and buttermilk. The process wasn't easy and my shoulder hurt the next day from shaking the mason jar so vigorously, but it was delicious (although not cost effective). We germinated alfalfa sprouts and planted spinach, lettuce, strawberries and broccoli in the garden (just in time for the snow to fall).
The best part of the week was when we ventured to the local feed store and brought home week-old baby chicks! They live in our kitchen with their tiny peeps. My farmer's heart is content.
