This week on the farm...

written by

Amy Forsyth

posted on

March 15, 2025


What a great week on the farm! Sunshine, fresh greens, thriving seeds, mud, and watching our animals soak in the early spring hues... glorious. 

As the snow melts, we shift into gear starting to get to work on organization for much needed spring projects and cleanup. Farmer Kyle and Farmer Stevo (Amy's dad) plugged away this week at equipment maintenance, tuning up the tractors and implements for the upcoming season. We also are working on building greenhouses down in our vegetable fields, so we can get some crops in the ground such as salanova salad, winterbor kale, swiss chard, radishes, turnips, and more! We are excited to get going with this new land and seeing how it all goes! It is a bit overwhelming and a little nerve racking never having grown veggies here, but we do know the conditions of the fields are incredible and just can't wait to witness what unfolds. 

We are planning to build an outside corral for our animals this week so they can start to enjoy the outside before we herd them out to pasture later this spring. Our new pig friends, Thelma and Louise, seem to be adjusting to their new home just fine, and loving their cozy digs and chicken friends. The layer gals have picked up production which is great, and we are also welcoming 180 new layers to the farm this coming week! They are young and will start to lay in a month or so. They will be housed in a different greenhouse and then brought out to pasture once it warms and drys up! So, eggs are on the up my friends! 

Overall, feeling great, nervous, excited...all the things. Here's to a beautiful Spring! 

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.