This past Sunday morning, a beautiful coyote sat where this white post stands and stared at me intently. I was putting up the hot-wire and posts in the background, when a distinct presence appeared over one shoulder. I turned to experience a sensation never before felt -- a coyote calmly sitting 30 yards away with ears perched observing my every move. Once I caught my breath, I stood and watched, and she watched back, so I watched some more, and she kept doing the same.

Foggy Bottom is not only a neighborhood in our nation's capital but also on our farm. The precipitation we have received this year is close to double normal amounts. This has made for frequent flooding and foggy mornings, even a snow-covered one earlier this week. Our bottom ground is susceptible to flooding, so we have to be vigilant about which animals are where during such times.

Rainbows appear when we need them. In midst of cold rain, grey skies, concern over inventory, and wonder about transitions, a rainbow graced our farm this morning such as we have never before witnessed. It was a full rainbow visible from one end to the other, with a great arc and a complete, thick spectrum of colors. It was magnificent, breathtaking, and instantly inspiring. It filled the heart with vitality and a sense of purpose, thus warding off the day's woes, to enable us to continue the great and demanding journey.

We are relocating stone on the farm from outdoors to indoors. It is difficult to move stone effortlessly. Here a stout hoist and the backs of numerous men move this mighty slab of sandstone into place. This slab is seven feet long, 8 inches thick, and 30 inches wide. It spent the first 400 million years of its life in the immediate neighborhood, first at the bottom of a sea and then as the face of a quarry in the nearby hillside. It spent the last 150 years as the protective cover to a cistern next to this house being renovated. It accompanied a twin slab, now situated on the hearth of a second fireplace in an adjacent room.

Paw Paw trees fill the Appachian forest. Here cows are taking refuge from the last heat of summer within shade offered by Paw Paw trees. These prolific, slender tees bear wild fruit, which seems tropical in taste and texture - like a cross between a mango and banana. They don't grow more than ten to fifteen feet tall, but thrive in the understory of mature trees, like locusts, walnuts, and oaks.

Calving has begun! This is our second calf, and was born to #806 a few days ago. #806 is one of our orginal cows, and is an Angus, as one would suspect. She was bred to a pure Red Devon bull, so the calf is half Red Devon. This is a bull calf, so he receives the same number as his dam, only with an s before the number. This bull calf will be castrated at six months of age, so the s stands for steer. Thus at a glance we know the sex and lineage of the animal. Year of birth is written at the top of the eartag, and is currently hidden by the ear. We write the same information on the back and put one tag in each ear. Periodically animals loose eartags, and we have to replace them.

Creating an Authentic Life Requires Moving Dirt! If you are concerned you have not yet moved enough dirt for your life to cyrstallize as you would like, fear not, for we have just moved 200 truck-loads (3,000 tons) from this creek-bank to where our new driveway intersects with the state road, in quest of authentic living... And in quest of safety, so we aren't run over by unseen logging trucks!

This building was recently constructed to store hay. Erecting a new building like this calls for more complicated deliberation than renovating old ones. This is the first new building we have erected in 35 years. New buildings claim footprint and change the landscape for an indefinite period of time. Productive ground is foregone for the structure, which will bear ongoing costs of maintenance and increased real estate taxes. So, new construction on a farm can be somewhat of an aggressive action.

These barn beams are being sawn in half, lengthwise, at Phil Weaver's sawmill.

Johnson Grass is the bane of the corn-farmer's existence, yet the fruit of the grazier's.