We really don’t make much money at this small farming thing. On most income indexes we would land somewhere at the very bottom. But as we sat down to diner last night, we dined as if our pocket books were bulging with wealth. We were able to trade a couple six packs of homebrewed beer for a chicken that had met its fate earlier in the day from a local farmer raising meat birds. We sauted the chicken with garlic scapes and bok choi stems from the garden, red peppers that were being thrown out at the coop, and napa cabbage from a friends garden. A wilted arugula, collard, bok choi and radish salad to accompany – all from the garden. As dinner cooked, we snacked on freshly smoked whitefish that we got from a neighbor – a native Ottawa tribesperson who has been fishing Lake Michigan for more years than we have in age. We thanked the fish, the chicken, all the fine veggies, and ate well.
