longestacresfarm longestacresfarm

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Kate  Mother/farmer. Icelandic sheep. Milking Devon cows. Ossabaw pigs. Up in the hills of central Vermont. kate@longestacres.com for conversations.


We were once young.

If you aren't following @bigpicturefarm already, then you're missing out on beautiful photos, their stunning farm, and their uncommonly tasty caramel treats. I feel so lucky on this platform to be connected to so many incredibly hardworking, talented, beautiful farmers. The first one of which that I met was Louisa. We met way back in the tumblr era and became fast friends. I was just scrolling through her feed this morning in awe of her photography and was reminded of this picture which is one of my favorites. Follow along there to see more of her incredible farm photography.

The extent of my Saturday night (plus the insomniatic monkey on my back)

This is a visual representation of the pace and productivity level of farming with kids. [Thanks to my MIL for the rare shot of me with kiddos.]

A cow popsicle to help you all cool off on this sweltering July day.

Leland and I have been starting our day here -in loose whispers with ambitiously large bowls of cereal. We don't get a lot of 1 on 1 hours these days [what with 1. Amelia 2. The farm 3. The endlessly welcome but revolving door of guests]. So this hour -when no one demands my time and he gets me all to hisself I -as his captive and freshly caffeinated audience- get to sit under his restless weight and listen to his 4 year old unfettered uninterrupted delight.

Nobody had ever accused Sam of gallantry...or loyalty, nobility, selflessness or courage. Then Diane started sitting on a clutch of eggs. And even though the rumors around the farm spread that the eggs were rotten, Sam took post by her nest; silent and vigilant. He slept only with one eye resting at a time. He became jumpy and anemic, potent and ruffled but the members of the farm could see in his silence the possibility of fatherhood and so a shift occurred in farm-thought and Sam was spoken about with a great deal less derision and not a small amount of respect.

Hola. Bonjour. Merhaba, Guten morgen. 안녕하세요. 你好. Hujambo. Aloha. Good morning, hello. Moo. Quack. Meow. Remember that we are all in this together. Do more good. Be more kind. Let's get this day started.

Turns out it was a fantastic day to make hay but an even better day to break a baler. Nick spent most of the day tending to and cursing at the behemoth. On the Home front though, Leland mastered the two-wheeled art of riding a bike and Fanny (the young French woman who is blessedly living in our yurt this month) baked us a french tart for supper, followed by raspberries and peaches à la glace for dessert. Like every hot and frustrating day, it was concluded in, by, through, on and with the pond. Because of all this [and despite the setbacks in making hay] the humans were able to say that it was -after all- a very perfect July day.

✨Peaches in the summertime. Apples in the fall. If I can't have you all the time I won't have none at all. ✨

Meteorologically speaking, a perfect day to cut hay. #2ndcut

Cousin Violet came for a visit this week and Hawkeye fell truly madly deeply for her.

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