I write, I farm, I clean . . .did I say clean?

I write, I farm, I clean . . .did I say clean?

A rainy day spent indoors–time to grind our own wheat and make bread, but check out the oven . . .evidence of neglect. But who has time to figure out how to wash oven doors when you’re planting rows of corn by hand and mucking about with goat kids who beg for attention? Who cares if the fire alarm goes off every time you put something in to bake? You get used to the beeping for the first ten minutes of supper and really on some nights it’s better we don’t hear what the kids have to say about goat cheese. The bread was fantastic thanks to the man of the house.

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