Break out the Vans and lose the socks. With the Ides of March passed, Spring looms in the not so distant future. After a winter of snowstorms and cold rain, I am looking forward to the season change like an eight-year-old to the ball pit at McDonalds.
I am swamped with work and preparing for a week long trip back to Nicaragua.
When work and responsibilities pile up, I turn to these blogs for an escape;
The Blue Hour,
Grass Doe,
Whole Lard Lover.
Be back soon.
"Why do you like farmer's markets?" Alex asked.
All of these photos were taken with Sigma's 50mm f1.4 lens. It beats Canon hands down.
Greens and purples.
Browns and Tans.
Wet, gray and orange.
Eggs and Spuds.
Everything got wet.
Apples.
Here are some more links,
"The forecast looked good," I reminded my grandfather as we marched through the accumulating snow.
"Welcome, to Wisconsin."
"Well put." I chuckled. Deer prints from early that day guided us along the trail into the 80 acre woods behind my grandfather's farm. I followed my grandfather's size 15 Eddie Bauer foot prints.
Two days before, a high of 50 had melted the midwinter snow, exposing raw fields and the stench of manure for the first time since mid November. Arriving in Milwaukee on Thursday night, I spent a long weekend in Sheboygan County poking around for antiques, enjoying fish fries and most importantly, the rustic serenity of my grandfather's farm.
Waking early and falling asleep before eleven, my daily schedule mimicked the sun's. My cell phone barely worked and the internet was reminiscent of dial up. I didn't complain.
Twilight.
I love these colors.
Country road, take me home. John Denver got it.
Sound the bell.
Binoculars.
Sunday I awoke to light flurries as a storm moved in across the plains from the west. Taking the opportunity to explore the recently white landscape, my grandfather and I set out into the woods behind his house.
The heavy falling snow muffled the woods. Occasionally, a branch gave way, shaking the snow resting on top of it. Sparsely breaking the silence, we followed the deer's tracks in the woods.
Call it a speed bandage for alleviating some of the frustrations of living in New York.
Geographers laid out most of the Midwest in simple, square-mile grids bordered by country roads. Farmers populated the majority of these grids over a hundred years ago. Last weekend, I visited two working farms in Sheboygan County, Wisconsin. Fascinated by the process and details of the farm worlds away from the Whole Foods dairy isle, I wandered the farms taking photos.
Today, larger farms dominate the agricultural industry fueling critiques like Food Inc. However, independent family-owned farms still flourish in specific niches.
The chicken coop.
Grass-fed organic milk, still hot.
Stand off.
Red.
Chomping grass, not grain, the Heidel Organic Farm produces a few thousand gallons of milk a week. David showed me around the operation and I did my best to avoid cow shit and take photos at the same time.
Lone ranger.
Mouser.
I always liked Chicken Run.
Twice a week, Organic Valley picks up milk from the Heidel farm.
Fresh eggs, from "unobstructed" chickens.
The farm dog inspecting the chickens.
The view from a hundred year-old hen house.
Milking time!
The Heichler farm vertically produces hand made sweaters. Starting with the lamb, Kathrine and Karl raise the sheep, spin the wool and knit the sweaters. More info here.
Patina.
More patina.
Catching some rays.
Empty stables.
Ready for an omelet.
I left my job in New York in the summer of 2011 and moved into a camper. Since then, I have driven 100,000 miles around the west, surfing and camping. During the summer of 2014, I set up a home base in the Columbia River Gorge. These are some of my stories and photos.
