It is difficult when you are a farmer, even a small one (that is, own a small farm, not be a small sized farmer) to get off the farm on any sort of regular basis.  

The chore list extends to infinity and beyond. It can make a seemingly industrious person feel downright lazy to indulge in some personal, off-the-farm time. 

But that is exactly what I need to keep some "work-life" balance.  So I do my best to have some small adventure off the farm every week. 

Today I took the short drive up to Mill Bluff State Park, not too far from Tomah, WI.  All the park gates were closed, and I wasn't sure which entrance would yield the best hike, so I took a chance on the Camel Bluff loop, an easy, level, 1.25 mile circuit. 

The trail is wide and pretty sandy, but hard-packed so it's not difficult walking.  It's also mostly in the shade of mature stands of pine, which would make it a cool saunter on a hot summer day. 

The trail was so easy-going that it made it very easy to really enjoy my surroundings, and stop often to take a closer look at details near the trail, like the angelic looking seeds of the milkweed pod. 

Setting them free in the breeze is one of my favorite tiny pleasures in the fall. 

There are side-shoots off the main trail that lead up to the individual bluffs, and I took advantage of those, too.  

#iseefaces

I  may have even climbed up a bit for a better view, although I found the view at my feet to be as delightful as the view of the horizon.

"There is an ancient conversation going on between mosses and rocks, poetry to be sure. About light and shadow and the drift of continents. This is what has been called the "dialect of moss on stone - an interface of immensity and minute ness, of past and present, softness and hardness, stillness and vibrancy, yin and yan.”

― Robin Wall Kimmerer, Gathering Moss: A Natural and Cultural History of Mosses

Warm sunshine uninhibited by the shade of the white pines now streamed down on my bare skin, warming me as I stood up with butterflies in my stomach and took in the grandeur of the view around me.

All too soon it was time to climb back down and head back to the farm in time for evening chores, which have gotten earlier as the sunset creeps backwards on the clock.

I did not have time to do the trail to Mill Bluff itself, but I will be back with that journey in mind.

Until then, it is back to the tasks at hand, here at the Little Farm.

Cheers -

A drive to La Crosse to deliver CSA shares yielded some pretty spectacular scenery today.

I could have driven on I90 to La Crosse but I always prefer to take the back way along scenic highway 14 which yields much more interesting scenery, even if not perhaps the fastest route to the city. 

What you can't see in this photo:  The snow all up and down my backside, a result of sliding down into a ditch between the road and the pasture to get this shot. The horses only sniggered a little.

The wind up on the ridge was pretty ferocious.  I was thankful that I had my warm vehicle and did not have to make the trek in a horse-drawn carriage, like many of our Amish neighbors do, no matter how cold it is outside. 

After my stops in La Crosse, I stopped at Grandad Bluff for a few more photos. 

Breathtaking, in more than one way!

Cheers - 

Cheers -

I grew up on the shores of Lake Superior, in a beautiful home built by my father's own two hands. Aside from a large garden at the side of our yard, there were no crops or fields or livestock or anything farm-related in the entire area that I grew up around.

So how is it that this woods and water gal married a wild-west mountain-loving cowboy (minus the horse) and ended up on a 40-acre farm in southwestern Wisconsin?

Who starts farming in their 40's, anyway?  What were we thinking?

Oh yeah, we were thinking about those strutting baby turkeys, those fat, happy chickens gobbling grass and bugs, the sheep that leap for joy when let into a new paddock, a brand new cria breathing its first breath of fresh air, baby bunnies bouncing around their mobile pastured pen.

We were thinking about the thick fog that comes in like a cloak and lays in the dips and hollows of the valley, the steep climb up to the highlands of our property to gaze out over the ethereal valley below.

We were thinking about fireflies that twinkle like stars and crickets and cicadas serenading the summer's heat all night long.

We were thinking about how important it is for us to know where our food comes from - not only because we don't trust the industrialized food system that puts profits before health, a system that insists things like high fructose corn syrup, Splenda, Nutrasweet, rbST, and GMO foods are all "safe" (even trying to make labeling foods containing GMO illegal!).

A food system that insists honeybees aren't dying because of the use of agricultural neonicotinoids and GMO crops, despite evidence to the contrary, and that as long as a company makes a profit, it matters not the impact on the land, the animals and the humans.

We were thinking about how helpless we feel about all of the above, but how empowered we feel whenever we walk into a paddock and see healthy, happy critters all expressing their natural instincts like running, flying and grazing, things that animals no longer do in confinement systems.

We were thinking we got into farming because it is choosing the opposite of animal suffering and environmental degradation.  It is healing the land and the animals and the people who tend them.

We were thinking we got into farming in order to secure the cleanest, healthiest, happiest food on the planet.

Some may argue that the way to accomplish all of this is by eliminating livestock and following a vegan/vegetarian diet, but I disagree.  I will cover all of the problems with the "vegan/vegetarianism is the way to save the planet" points in a separate post.

But today, I will go spend some extra time with my flock of heritage Sweetgrass turkeys, which are only a week away from going to market in preparation to grace many local Thanksgiving tables.

I will haul fences and set up new paddocks and watch as my lambs leap for joy over a new salad buffet.

And I will feel grateful for this life, this farm, these animals,and this clean food.

Blessings -

It takes forever to arrive, and then passes so quickly.  It's transient nature demands mindfulness and a slowness of pace to notice the details.

The warmer weather invites exploration and play.

Thank you spring, for making me notice you.

Cheers -

It happens so rarely.

Too rarely.

Sitting still outside after a long, hard day.

Just sitting.

Not doing.

Watching and listening to the evening settle in around the farm.

A thought pops suddenly into my mind - "I should see if the bleeding hearts are still in bloom, and if so, grab my camera."

I do so love the old-fashioned bleeding heart plant.  I have grown these at every property where I have been allowed to put things into the ground.

Victorian ladies dancing, that's what these little blooms remind me of. 

The kitties come out of the house to join me, one by one.

ten ladies dancing...

All except Kali, who is no doubt out having her own adventure stalking rodents in the pastures.

After snapping flower photos, I go back to the front steps and sit again.

The kitties put on a playful act for my entertainment.

Karma and Zoey take turns stalking Mojo.

Mojo pretends to ignore them all, confident that he is still the Big Dog of cats in the household.

So they commence to stalk each other.

I breathe the clean air and feel the dusk settling.

The kittens romp and play some more.

The grass is cool and smells so fresh.  A breeze flutters the leaves of the maple tree.

I am fully present, and content.

Blessings -