Those are words I should probably have tattooed on my forehead. The first time I visited my husband’s family farm I never thought it would be my forever home. In my wildest dreams I couldn’t have imagined the fun (and frustrations) we’d have fixing up the old farmhouse, or the rewards of feeding people from our gardens, coops, pens, and kitchen. But here we are eight years after we planned our first garden together, sitting in our gussied-up kitchen discussing how and when to quit messing around with our tiny aluminum-framed greenhouse and just build a real one in the footprint of Grandpa’s old chicken coop. Ah, progress. I’m sure that by the time we finally do get that bigger greenhouse built I’ll be saying, “little did I know” again.
Anyway, thanks for stopping by. I hope you’ll enjoy reading about all the doings at Pleasant Home Farm, where we raise veggies, pastured poultry, and sometimes cattle, do a lot of good cooking and eating, and generally try to let the seasons dictate the rhythms of our life.