https://scribepublications.com.au/books-authors/books/farm-9781922310545
It’s been years since I left Sydney, resigned from my role as managing editor for BuzzFeed, packed a shipping crate with my furniture and possessions and convinced my Australian husband to move countries with me so we could become farmers. In New Zealand. Land of milk and honey. I was going to be a food producer. Live on the land. Be good to the environment. Be a farmer.
Then the animal rights activist group PETA told me there’s no such thing as a meat-eating environmentalist.
But they were wrong.
The afternoons have started to heat up; it’s November and the farm is flush with grasses. Some we’ve purposefully introduced; others have appeared out of the seed bank, pushing shoots up amid the rye grass to announce their presence. Wild radish, common plantain, red clover, lesser trefoil and comfrey – a medicinal plant for us that we can pick to make a salve for bruised limbs, a tonic to fertilise vegetables and a nutritional treat for our animals. In the early morning, as the fog lifts off the lake, we pack a day bag into the farm truck – diesel not electric, yet – and drive out of the farm gates heading towards Hawke’s Bay, and my mum’s family farm.
In the back seat my daughter bellows the sound of a cattle beast, a generous “MOOOOO”,
