Some have asked what I did with the windrows of cut grass after mowing with the scythe. Some goes to compost; some goes to the goats. The grass that the goats are feasting on here is from this evening’s mow. (I couldn’t resist doing a little more before d
Oftentimes, it takes us buckets of tears, sweat and (literally) blood before we achieve what we want in life. But so long as it means waking up the next day to a morning as majestic and picturesque as this, I would not mind fighting till I shed the last b