We roll down windows to say “hi” to horses along the way, we sing a silly (non-rhyming) version of “going to the farm farm farm, how bout you you you,” we pick clover and dandelions, we feed the pigs, we chat with the chickens, we crow with the rooster. Dirt clods are gathered and carried in baskets until the inspiration strikes to toss them. We hug our farmers, we slow down to watch ladybugs crawl and fly away, boots are taken off and we let the mud squish between our toes and run around the maypole.
Strawberries and sorrel are nibbled along the way, popsicles are devoured, we watch tractors roll by and hear the cows mooing in the distance.
Funny to think that we once thought we were just signing up for local produce…
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