Dylan plays soccer with a fellow from Kuna who I believe is a dairyman. Friday afternoon, Stephen and Dylan drove out to Kuna and returned with a truck load of manure to share among our two gardens as well as the garden of friend. The boys were pretty excited by the idea of cow poop and Henry ran around singing a sweet little song about cow shit once the truck showed up. No one bothered to reprimand him, and his song lost its appeal after about five minutes. Plus, it was a lot of manure, meaning it deserved some sort of a comment. And he was having so much fun being a little naughty. Why rain on his parade?

Anyway, all the boys worked hard to dump the manure so we could move on to dinner.













Ahh, my favorite--meat! Thank God for cows!









After spending a few hours on a farm, Stephen commented that he would like to move to the country and raise some earth-loving, free-range babies (I'm prapharsing).  To which I said,

Look around. Our babies have spent the entire day outside running barefoot in the dirt helping prep the garden. They have cow poop under their nails. They pee in the yard. We've got it all right here.