This week on the farm...

written by

Amy Forsyth

posted on

March 1, 2025


As we say goodbye to February, the air is feeling more alive with spring energy, and that is trickling into all things around the farm. The longer days and less frigid nights are truly making an impact on the growth of our seedlings, the health and happiness of our animals, and our spirits as farmers. We will be venturing into March with 2 pregnant mama pigs, which we will be welcoming to the farm next week! This is a new avenue for Kyle and I, as we have never assisted in piglets being born, or raising them. In the past we have bought our pigs at a few months old and raised them throughout this summer. We are now transitioning to raising our own piglets, start to finish. We will have a few breeder pigs, and a boar to breed. We are excited for this new avenue as a big part of this move was to close the circuit on outsourcing and bring many things in house, like pig breeding. There is so much more you can control when you are raising the animal from birth, the main thing being the health of the animal. We truly pride ourselves in our animal husbandry and this will be so beneficial for our community as well. 

Overall, new life is all around, and we will continue to soak in the joys of the small things because that's what it is all about! Here's to a wonderful spring ahead, new beginnings, and to all the blooms in between. 

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.