This week on the farm...

written by

Amy Forsyth

posted on

February 15, 2025


Lambing is in full swing! We have welcomed 6 healthy, beautiful lambs thus far. All babies and moms are doing great, such a relieving feeling. Over the years we have experienced some heartbreaks and challenges, so each smooth and healthy birth is truly such a gift. The greenhouse living is truly making a big difference. The sunlight and warmth is powerful, bringing a lot more ease to the herd this time of year. 

Amongst the lambs we started seeding this week! Felt SO good to get our hands in the soil. I tell you; it's truly healing to just stick your hands into dirt. Don't knock it 'till you try it. We seeded winterbor kale, swiss chard, salad mix, all our heirloom and cherry tomatoes, onions, and herbs. We also got some pea shoots going! These are quick growing shoots that will be ready to harvest in just a few weeks. We love adding them to the menu this time of year for some bright, refreshing nourishment. So definitely something to look forward to. 

We are soaking in all the new little life around the farm, from little hooves to tending seeds. As excited as we are to get the season going, these smaller, slower moments have been quite cup filling. I'm realizing the heart of the farming season isn't just summer, it's all these little moments stacked together to build the whole picture. 


Cheers to the little flickers in life... 

More from the blog

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.