WHY WE'RE NOT RAISING PIGS THIS YEAR (AND WHY THAT'S OKAY).

 We love pigs... most of the time. Most of the time the pigs are well-behaved, sweet, and ultimately nutritious (I am, as I write this, cooking sausage from last year's pigs for breakfast). But then there are the times they are not: they are gone, out of the fence, in the garden, in the woods, who knows where they are. It's those times that are most prominent in my mind right now as we prepare for a really big season on the farm. We're doubling our CSA, we're taking on a lot more debt, and we have to wonder... are the pigs worth it right now?Are they worth the stress to the farmer, the risk to the gardens, the upfront cost, the sausage? The answer? Begrudgingly, maybe not. So I'm having to, for perhaps the first time since we've been farming, make a reasonable decision here. We're going to skip the pigs for the year.The reality is we just don't yet have the infrastructure to properly manage them. They wind up costing a lot more time and stress than we make back on them; than perhaps the pork is worth.This isn't in any way the end of our relationship to pigs. We just need to clear a little more forest—which is currently too dense, unmanageable and inefficient for portable fencing. We need to find more sources of slop—restaurants, shareholders, etc.. And we have to get through this year first. We do that, and we may have pigs again next year. We don't make it through, and heck we'll probably do pigs again anyway. Because if you can't win for losing, you might as well have some pork to show for it.-Jesse. 

THAT MAMA LIFE.

On Saturday morning, I was laying in bed with Further listening to the rain tapping on the tin roof. Jesse had left early that morning for market, and we had the whole day to ourselves. We were snuggled up under the quilt and I was envisioning my morning: cleaning the house, washing diapers, maybe doing a little bit of knitting...Then I heard that sound we have so come to dread: the snarfling, snorting sound of pigs in the front yard. I closed my eyes for a moment and then got up, grabbed the baby carrier, and off we went.Somehow, I managed to smoothly wrangle the pigs, get them back into their paddock, re-string the electric wire fence, bring them food and water - all the while tromping through the rain and mud in my pajamas AND simultaneously breastfeeding Further! All before 7 AM. I got back to the house and couldn't help but feel pretty dang proud of myself.Well, I am sure you know how this sort of story goes. It wasn't half an hour later that I was back outside, in more rain and mud, chasing pigs and not feeling quite so smug. This time, Further was screaming his head off and slamming his face repeatedly into my chest, and I was saying a lot more choice words. Finally, by 11:30, and with the helping hand of Ira, the pigs were all in and accounted for. I started cooking my much-needed breakfast and felt completely spent. My leisurely morning: gone. My plans of returning any sense of order to the cabin: nixed.This is often how I find myself these days - zipping back in forth between feeling somewhat accomplished and feeling like a total failure. I have come to grips with the fact that I cannot always be out in the field helping Jesse. But when I can't even manage to get the floor swept and the diapers are piling up and I can't find one clean fork, I just start to feel somewhat useless.I know, I know, I know that being a Mama is important. And I know that this is what it is to be a parent: to try every day, to fail every day. Some days we read books and play games and laugh and learn and I love my baby every single minute, and some days I just can't wait for him to fall asleep so I can just sit alone in a room and not have anybody touching me for five seconds. But I am trying these days not to be so controlled by my emotions, trying not to let those ugly feelings of failure creep in. This is hard in being a mama, and it is hard in farming. Hard to not despair over lost crops, weedy gardens, buggy broccoli.So: I will embrace the dirty kitchen. I will wait for Jesse to come home and help me with the pigs. I will try very hard to treasure every moment of this little child of mine, this farming life of mine. And tomorrow, I will try again.- Hannah.

PIGS IN THE WOODS.

We are having mixed feelings about the pigs lately.We love the pigs. We love raising pigs. It makes a lot of sense for our farm and our land. But somedays, it is really, REALLY frustrating.We raise our pigs in the woods, rotating them frequently in small paddocks using solar-electrified fencing. This means that every time we move them we end up getting the fence caught on every twig and briar and branch, every few seconds. Tripping over hidden rocks and logs, falling in the mud and poison ivy, cursing the heavens. It means that when a pig gets OUT, as it definitely will sometimes, we end up chasing that pig through the woods in the middle of the night. and that means more cursing. It is, as I said, frustrating.We dream of having pastured pigs. Or stationary pigs. Pigs that stay put and don't require a stumbling five minute walk through a dense cedar forest with two five gallon buckets every day. Plus, we have plans to do more faming in our woods - mushrooms, nut trees, nettles, and so on. Pigs don't exactly fit into that plan.But then we move them into a fresh paddock, and they are so happy. SO happy. They are romping around, chomping on nuts and making gleeful piggy sounds, and it is clear that this is how they should be raised, as maddening as it is at times.- Hannah.

HONEY HARVEST.

We had a great harvest last week - a little over 40 pounds of honey and only one sting. At the rate the bees are working, there will be plenty for us and some to share with our CSA members! Further watched from the porch and seems like he'll be a great beekeeper someday.- Hannah.