Week 4

As you know, the so-called Frankenstorm lurched its way through the Northeast early this week.  On Sunday night, I awoke to the sounds of wind swirling around the casing of my windows, howling Dickens-esque about the ghosts of Christmas future – a.k.a. the weather on our planet in years to come.

At dawn, we weatherproofed ourselves brilliantly in rubberized reds, blues and yellows and headed to soggy fields to harvest spinach.  The work was… (continue reading).


At right is fellow student, Bongi, tending to the sheep, mid-hurricane.


Sarah and Patience watching Hurricane Sandy before the afternoon milking.


Our tree identification class, before we lost power, scheduled mercifully at the height of the storm.


After the storm, the sun shown through on one of the not-so-glorious jobs around the farm – removing rows of plastic mulching.


One of our feathered friends becoming next year’s squash in the never ending dance of proteins.


Don’t turn your back on a sheep, if you’re the only thing standing between it’s winter pasture and fresh grass. This little escapade added an extra 30 minutes onto our afternoon chores (including my break to take this picture) and entertained the rest of the barnyard.


Writing on the wall of our mid-1800’s barn. It is most likely a milk tally with with the days of the week written in German.


True Grit (on right), just being True Grit.


Chainsaw Bill demonstrating how to sharpen our chronically dull chains.


An Athol chainsaw massacre, timed appropriate for the week of Halloween.


All limbs attached at the end of logging = all smiles.


Josh, at the end of a day extolling the nougaty virtues of a Mars bar.

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