Settling into winter.

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December 20, 2025

What a season it has been. We have grown in ways that we didn't even know existed. We have triumphed in ways we didn't even know existed. We have been challenged, humbled, motivated, and nurtured by our new land. It's almost a habit to see where we fell short, what could have been better, but that's the beauty of being human. There would be no growth if everything went perfect, so we are better farmers for it.

As we settle into winter, our bodies thank us for the longer hours slept, the slower pace of the days, and the nourishing foods this time of year offers. Our sheep and cows are tucked into their winter homes, relishing in rich alfalfa hay and the winter sunshine that heats their tunnels. Our layer gals also find comfort and warmth in their own greenhouse, making dust baths in the dirt and enjoying being able to scratch and forage amongst the colder days. We are happy to announce our two breeder pigs, Thelma and Louise, are both expecting! Pigs gestation is 3 months, 3 weeks, and 3 days, and are expected to have 8-12 piglets each! So in just a few short months we will be swimming in newborn piglets, excitement is an understatement. We have never bred pigs before, so I am sure there will be lots of learning curves, but with Farmer Kyles expertise we just can't go wrong!

With this time of year, as you know, comes many goodbyes. We have wrapped up our hauling for the season, which in return will fill our freezer with so much beloved meat. We will be back in stock with lamb, pork, and more beef in just a few weeks, oh how much gratitude that holds.

We wish you all a very Merry Christmas and thank you from the bottom of our hearts for your support this season. Here's to a rich and quiet winter, which in turn will lead to a vibrant and abundant 2026 season.

Saying goodbye.

People ask if it gets easier. It doesn’t. You just get better at carrying it. The guilt dulls to a workable ache, like a joint that predicts rain. You learn to separate the animal from the meat in your freezer without lying to yourself. You remember their lives, their heart, and you’re grateful in a complicated way. Farming is a long conversation between care and necessity. Raising animals for food means promising them a good life and a swift, respectful death. Most days the promise feels honorable. Loading day it feels like betrayal. Both are true.I used to want to detach myself from the reality of it, but I realize that it's actually not detachment that eases it, it’s the opposite. It’s knowing them so well that their leaving is stitched into every day they’re here. The joy of a lamb kicking its heels for the first time, the friendly glance and nods from our cows, the soft snorgles and oinks from our pigs—these are the same thread that pulls tight on processing day. You don’t cut the thread. You let it run through your hands until it’s done. Processing day forces you to confront the realities of ethical eating. In a world where meat often arrives pre-packaged and disconnected from where they came from, we've chosen a different way. We know exactly how our animals were treated—kindly, respectfully, without the horrors of industrial farms. Yet, the act itself is bittersweet, a reminder that every meal carries a story, a sacrifice. It's why we pause before each meal, why we waste nothing, and why we commit to doing better each year: rotating pastures, improving infrastructure, ensuring compassionate ends. To anyone reading this who simply wants to understand the farm-to-table truth: it's not glamorous, but it's profound. It deepens your appreciation for the land, the animals, and the quiet strength required to honor both. This isn't just about survival; it's about living in harmony with nature's rhythms, even when they break your heart a little.

Settling into winter.

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