Matt also grows berries in the summer and spinach in the winter and, more importantly, he raises turkeys. Good turkeys.
I bought one from him this year (I am not alone – he sold some 200 for Thanksgiving meals around the county) and on Monday, I drove out to his farm to pick it up.
No, no, not by the neck, out of a flock of gobbling birds. Mine was out in the shed, in a box and ready to go. But I am of the opinion that those of us who do eat meat should treat it as something that comes from a farm, not from a freezer section of a supermarket. And, we should care about what happens to that turkey down there on the farm, before it reaches the store shelf or your table.
So, there I am, out at Matt’s farm, admiring the winter greens...
And the half-out-of-it bees (that still manage to get tangled in Matt’s pony tail)
And they’re all swell, but what I want to admire most are the turkeys.
And they are beautiful.
So I ask – am I going to be eating one of those?
No, no – he tells me. Yours is closer in kind to this one:
So the others, what are they for?
Oh, just as pets. They’re really neat, not at all dumb. And here, see what I can get them to do? [Matt shows how he can lull a turkey to sleep]
Turkey time, coming up. May all yours be as well cared for as Matt’s are.
Driving back, I’m remembering the conversation with my Yorkshire colleague. I note to her – your grass is still green, isn’t it?
Green? Yes, of course.
It’s green year-round?
Absolutely. Yours isn’t? What color is it then?
Well, it turns brown. But on days like this, it is a beautiful brown.
