Missing Willow Farm

Just sharing some of my treasures.  I’m responsible for none of these, they’ve been sent to me over the years in Craftster swaps by some really talented artists.  That’s Jenna at #13, Beatrice at #18 and Bindi at #19.  Those cubbies are 5″ by 5″, to give you some size perspective.  How lucky am I?

We got Jack a few toys, including his very own wubba.  He made us chase it for him the first few days.  I think he found the squeaker inside a bit disconcerting.  Now he gets very excited when we get it out and toss it for him.  Yesterday, he retrieved it twice then on the third toss, he took off with it and delivered it about a quarter mile to our neighbor’s house.   I guess he thought they might enjoy seeing his new toy.  Baby steps…

One of Hermione’s triplets, Nymeria, is going to a new home today.  She’ll have a great pyrenees to watch over her and other goats to hang with.  I’ll miss her sweet face in our pasture.  She’s a beauty.

Heirloom tomatoes.  Nuff said.

Jack’s a happy, affectionate dog (who keeps running off).  At least he always comes home and isn’t gone for long.

My friend Lora always brings the BEST stuff when she comes for dinner!  Here’s her yellow sour cream coconut cake.  To die for!

Here’s a sample of mostly farm fresh goodies all gathered for a side dish.  Roasted potatoes and garlic, goat cheese, eggs, cucumbers and tomatoes all from our farm.

And it’s a doozy!  We’re having hamburgers for dinner tonight, it will be perfect for slicing!

Here’s this morning’s harvest.   Along with pickling cucumbers, leeks, purple carrots and yellow plum tomatoes, we got the last of our english peas and the first of our cherokee purple tomatoes and purple kohlrabi.  Kohlrabi is pretty cool, it’s known as a broccoli apple.  It can be prepared in many ways.  Raw in salads, mashed, fried, you name it.  This is our first year growing it but not our last.

Jack’s waiting patiently at the pasture gate to wrangle the sheep.  Jessica’s keeping a close eye on her boyfriend.  Summer’s getting ready to run up to be petted.  A typical morning on the farm.