In the six days since my last post I spent only one working on the addition. No wonder this project is taking so long! Yesterday I sanded the stairwell and fixed the goofs. The day before that we went fishing.

We were treating ourselves to a day off, as we spent the prior three days processing 19 chickens.

It looks mean to carry them by their legs, but hanging them makes the blood go to their heads. This quiets them.

We used the cool weather to good advantage. That is our modified pillow case to the right. It keeps the birds hugged tightly, again keeping them calm, with only their heads exposed. After Michael separates head from body I stroke their breasts until… — We used the cool weather to good advantage. That is our modified pillow case to the right. It keeps the birds hugged tightly, again keeping them calm, with only their heads exposed. After Michael separates head from body I stroke their breasts until they hug me with their wings and stop shuddering. We give thanks and comfort to each of our birds.

Whether this counts as ethical harvest can be debated. It’s what we do, if only to help us get through the killing part. We find we can only stand so much death in one day.

We take the feathers off and the insides out in the open air. Our local dinosaur herd is there to clean up any stray offal that hits the ground.

Michael does a final clean up and I part them out: wings, legs thighs and breasts, soup bones.

This is our version of “processed food.” These birds grew to about 3 lbs each In 12 weeks. They are tiny compared to broilers, which weighed in at 10 lbs after 9 weeks. They taste…more complex: they have eaten more grass and insects and worms and basked in more sunshine, and it makes a difference.

The popcorn noticeably grows every day. This is the corn 4 days ago.

This is the corn today. The wooden things are anti-lodging racks (or “corn crates”). Even if we’ve never had a tornado, we get powerful straight line winds every summer. Field corn withstands the wind better than our heritage popcorn.

From right: bok choi, cabbage, carrots hiding in the back next to the rhubarb, onions, potatoes.

The straw bale garden is burgeoning. Cucumbers, peas, beans, eggplant, tomatoes, onions, and dill.

Most exciting of all: one of our hens has gone broody. She’s sitting on 10 eggs, mostly laid by other hens. She doesn’t move off that nest except to eat (very little) and to let the eggs breathe if the weather gets too hot. She is amazing. It has ta… — Most exciting of all: one of our hens has gone broody. She’s sitting on 10 eggs, mostly laid by other hens. She doesn’t move off that nest except to eat (very little) and to let the eggs breathe if the weather gets too hot. She is amazing. It has taken 5 years and any number of hens to get one who needs to sit on a nest and hatch eggs. Most chickens have had that instinct bred out of them. The eggs should start hatching around July 9. Keep tuned!

My father died two years ago today. He never made it out to see our farm, but he was very proud that we have one. He once told me that of all the amazing things his father’s children and grandchildren have done (and believe me, even having argued before the Supreme Court, I am a piker compared to many of my siblings and extended family), he thought that the one thing my grandfather would have been the most impressed by is my owning and working a 40 acre farm. Every morning I sing a Salve Regina with my father. Then I go and work with Michael to build a beautiful life. Every. Day.