“The ultimate goal of farming is not the growing of crops, but the cultivation and perfection of human beings.”

Masanobu Fukuoka, The One-Straw Revolution

A Tale of Two Minis

Today, let's continue on with another chapter in our farm story....


It was a hot, humid morning in August.  The cicadas were chirping loudly in the woods surrounding the farm.  They had recently replaced the lovely birdsongs that I had enjoyed in the earlier months of this particular summer.  As I drove the gator down the lane back to the barn, sweat dripped from my brow.  I had just finished weed-whacking around our beehives and could hardly wait to get back to the barn to remove my suffocating bee suit… necessary when working around bees who were as irritable as I was from the sweltering heat.  It was that time of summer when weeds flourish… their long taproots reaching deep enough to find the moisture that escapes the less fortunate, brown, crunchy grass.  The drought had given us a reprieve from mowing, but not from trimming weeds.

As I drove, I unzipped the mesh head covering from my bee suit and leaned my head to the side of the gator, hoping to catch a breeze.   I shook my hair, trying to un-stick my sweaty bangs from my forehead, and cast a glance through the horses’ dry lot to the front pasture on the other side of the fence.  I had hoped to catch a glimpse of my two...


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