We sipped cold water on a hot porch as we swatted flies. Guinea hens raced through the yard shouting their protest.
“Where do they sleep?” I asked the farmer’s wife.Â
“What? I can’t hear you, the guinea hens are too loud!”Â
“I said WHERE DO THEY SLEEP? I DON’T SEE A COOP!”Â
The noise faded as the pack passed. Â
“Oh them. They sleep in the trees. Every once in a while a fox gets them, but they’re sturdy.”Â
So much to learn. So much to do.Â
Tom and I visited a family that raised a little bit of everything. A “whole farm,” they call it. We looked down the necks of llamas who guarded sheep. Goats nipped at our heals and cows grazed on a hill far away.Â
To say that this retired cop from New York and his wife did a little of everything would be an understatement. Â
Goat soap, goat milk, beef, sheep. Â
I’m exhausted just thinking of it.Â
Gruesome though their schedule was, they loved it.Â
I think we’re gonna love it, too.Â
Here’s to 2013 in North Carolina staring up at a blue sky framed with majestic poplars.Â
Happy New Year!Â
