HOME AGAIN.
It's been quiet on the blog for the past week, mostly because we are home and no longer have the internet everyday! It was straight back to work - baling hay, popping and planting garlic, hauling the remainder of the squash indoors before the cold snap, midwife appointments and CSA deliveries - all over the past few days. And still, we are oh-so-content to be home. With all the stresses of the past month - the turkeys and pigs and goats escaping CONSTANTLY and destroying gardens and pooping all over our storage crops and causing us to question what we are doing wrong - I had this fear that we would never want leave Cape Cod. So it was nice to feel that pull for home as our vacation came to an end.We will try to have the blog back up with regularly scheduled posts soon. But today, we are enjoying this frosty weather, loading up the woodstove, and pretending that we don't hear the pig who is rooting around in the front yard.- Hannah.
LOUISVILLE.
We are heading back to the farm today.....and we are so ready. We had a perfect vacation: plenty of relaxing, over-the-top amazing food, making lots of new friends and visiting with all our favorite people. But home. HOME. There is nothing like it. This whole trip was basically a giant food tour - from one restaurant to one coffee shop to one donut shop to the next - our poor bellies are more than ready to be back to a diet of simple veggies. We are eager to be eating our own good food again, to be physically active again, very ready to squeeze our big pup!Here are some photos from the weekend in Louisville. Once again, the city did not disappoint us. We will write some more about our time in Louisville later, but right now - we are heading south to Bugtussle.- Hannah.
So many murals in this city.
This shop is (and smells) incredible.
Holy cow, Holy Grale - you are wonderful. 
Best hosts ever. 
Best baby ever. 
Best husband ever.
Eiderdown continues to be perfect. 
Please & Thank You boasts the best chocolate chip cookie in Louisville - I won't argue with that.
An antique shop in a warehouse - we spent hours and hours getting lost.
Up before the sun (per usual) on a rainy Sunday at Sunergos.
Brunch of a lifetime.
RITUAL NUMBER ONE.
For the most part, Wendell is nocturnal. The majority of his days are spent sleeping off his night's adventures, so it's rare that we'll actually see much of him between the hours of breakfast and dinner...with one exception. After lunch every weekday, Hannah, Wendell and I all take a walk to the mailbox, and when we call for him around that time––"Come on, Goof!"––he comes running out from under the house, out from our neighbor's pasture, or sometimes just out of nowhere, and excitedly joins us on our walk.This long walk to the mailbox has become our first family ritual, and I think we all cherish it equally. Wendell bounds down the road, joyfully bouncing in and out of the woods, throwing his whole body back and forth as he wags his enormous tail. Hannah and I hold hands, occasionally throwing sticks for Wendell to chase (until he gets bored with that and chases our shoes). When we get to our box and grab the mail, we all turn around and head back together, as a family.It's such a lovely event, and it's one of my favorite parts of every day. I like to imagine ourselves making this same walk, at this same time, when we have children, when those children grow up, and when we're old and it takes up the better part of the day. Not that Bugtussle hasn't felt like home since I first laid eyes on it, but adding this ritual has solidified that feeling for me. We live here now, with the ritual to prove it.- Jesse.
WHERE WE LIVE.
According to our mailing address, we live in Gamaliel, Kentucky - pronounced by the locals as "GUH-MAY-YUH." But we are not technically within the city limits - we are on the far outskirts of town, in a little community known as Bugtussle. There are several of these old, not-on-the-map communities around, places like Frog Pond or Pumpkin Town.And I love them. I love the bizarre names, the stomach-turning windy roads, the little roadside barbeque stands. I love the old couples in rocking chairs on front porches, the wealth of little churches and crumbling cemeteries, the chickens scratching along the side of the roads. When we are driving back home from "the big city," you can feel the shift as you enter into this remote area. There comes a moment, the farther out of town you get, where every passing driver will wave - with the lifting of a finger or tilt of the hand. It is a sort of solidarity - a knowing nod that connects you with all others who would dare be this far out of civilization. Sometimes we forget, and try to wave as we drive though Gallatin, or Bowling Green, or Nashville, but the connection is gone. And this, more than anything, is what I love the most about where we live. The little wave, the acceptance, the sign that we are on our way home.- Hannah.