Enter Frank Sinatra’s ridiculous croon, sung softly by a urine soaked goat with a beard that hangs down below his balls, martini in his left hoof, cigarette and microphone in his right, swaying to the rhythms of bygone times. Strangers in the night exchanging...
We’re not entirely sure what happened to summer, but fall here on the farm is definitely in full bloom….and it is nothing short of spectacular. The goat kids are growing up, the pigs are getting huge, the chickens are molting and the leaves are starting to...
