As summer dawns, rivers of cattle flow into seas of grass. We are having trouble keeping up with all the grass. It is growing at maximum rate, and we either slow down to graze it all in one location, leaving other pastures untended, or we speed up to impact them all somewhat. The benefit with slowing down is trampling of weeds. The benefit of speeding up is livestock are on a constant plane of high nutrition and the whole farm is impacted. Many graziers slow down and manage the excess by making hay. We don't have the equipment to do that, so we are speeding up, leaving grass behind and mowing what is left to control weeds.

Sliders on the Square starts with a nap in the woods. For many years we have been grilling sliders on the Square at Hyde Park on Sundays. For obvious reasons, that is not possible this season. But, you can grill your own this Father's Day and they will be just as good. As mentioned, the first step is to take a good nap, preferably in the shade of the woods. Then take a mud bath, before heading to the kitchen to fraternize with the cooking crew.

A day that starts with this is inspiring. Frost, for which the nearby road was named, hovers above the land, and spirits which catch our attention, ascend into the above. And then, as the sun rises high, wetlands glisten with brilliance, as if they have been scrubbed and polished. This is the mystery of beauty.

We are carving pathways in a sea of grass, to ensure the way forward. Electric nets will go up next, accompanied by the shade mobile, and to be followed by water tub and mineral sled. Then the flock of sheep will enter this paddock for two days of high-quality grazing. The route of these pathways is not fixed. They can go in any direction necessary, which is part of their beauty. Much effort goes into preparing these pathways and moves, under Clark's leadership, to achieve food of high nutrition and integrity.

Five inches of rain fell last week in 48 hours. The creek jumped the banks and our bottom-ground was flooded. Our sheep, cattle, and hogs were on high ground. One of our chicken coops was on low ground and had to be evacuated. Fortunately, it was the one on wheels and relocating proceeded without mishap. We brought the cows back to the feeding pad for two days, to protect pastures, before returning them to the grazing plan. It was an intense few days, that tested the design of the farm and the resolve of its managers.

The ladies have arrived, and in droves! After an 8-hour drive from eastern Pennsylvania, these ladies are finding a new home. They don't know what green pasture is, but they will learn soon enough. Note their long beaks, left intact so they can hunt and peck in the grass. (In confinement operations, they are debeaked, so as not to cannibalize each other.) Outdoor hens are constantly moving to fresh grass, distracted by lush feed. After a few days of orientation, they will begin their march across pasture, never to sit still again.

Sunrises like this propel us into the power of the moment. So much is percolating these days it is hard to process all of it. Forces of spring are emerging, lambs are being born, cattle are thriving, generosity is being extended, orders are persisting, teamwork is flowing, and a pandemic is dominating. Assimilating all of this transforms the average into the extraordinary.

This pondweed species, Potamogeton, has been frosted, but soon enough will be green again. It was startling to see brown plants upon the water the other day on this eve of spring, as it is startling to find ourselves arrested in place at this same time. But the resilient urge to overcome within nature and within us always murmurs restlessly. Example of this are blue bands of hope bordering frosted pondweed and Spring Beauties newly lining the forest floor.

As we reside at home, to where would the moon transport us? Almost anywhere, with a little help out of the kitchen... Over the past two weeks, we have traveled to Mexico, North Africa, and Italy, free of charge, and without hassles in airports, customs, or taxi cabs. Pretty good deal. How does one do that? By opening a cook book and then casting an eye heavenward. There is an adage: If you can read, you can cook, and if you can cook, you can travel... It is so true. And travel doesn't want to be first-class to be rewarding. Often the most interesting is what comes off the beaten trail. The same is true for cooking.

Two herds have been concentrated into one. One hundred fifty beeves are now in one herd, representing 3 generations: mature cows, their current calves, and last year's calves, who are now long-yearlings. We have not had this much concentration of beef in one group before, amounting to about 100,000 lbs. of weight. The above lot is nearly 5 acres in size, and they were only in it for one day, but when we start strip-grazing taller grass, impact upon the soil will be about 100,000 lbs. of weight per acre. One has to be careful with that much impact, but it becomes a powerful tool for building organic matter in soil, when managed properly.

We find peace of mind in the doing. A burst of sunlight on the hillside reveals much activity in the valley below. In the far distance is Landis' house and behind the trees is the grass-based dairy he manages. His cows have been calving through March, so their peak production of milk will be timed with peak production of grass in the months ahead. Then you can see in the picture a thin strip of red beef cows closely managed by Clark. Next in view is the egg-mobile, which Mike moves twice a week, assuring eggs will be firm and yellow. Closer in the foreground is a trailer and skid-steer, which reflect the fencing project for sheep nearing completion. The pasture where the hay is unrolled is a bit overgrazed, so today we move the flock of sheep to another across the creek.

A tipping point has descended upon us like a cement block, presenting a future that shines and beckons. Much that was spawned by the Industrial Revolution of the 19th and 20th centuries is suddenly being brought to its knees by an untamed microbe. A 200-year-old and deeply ingrained model of doing business is being shattered before our eyes, by an invisible force, over a period of months. The world is convulsing and retching, as if sickened by its diet. Conventional structures of power stand impotent and mute, seemingly by magical decree, before this silent fury sweeping through the interstices of the world. Carbon-guzzling jets lie idle; the price of oil has collapsed; the world has returned to natural boundaries, conventional businesses are dying, and blue skies have reappeared above Wuhan for the first time in two decades.