Yong and I, with our daughters, were off to Kinderhook farms Sunday. I had quite a romantic notion of the place, and so did the girls as they squealed about the cute animals. It was an idyllic scene: the typical big red barns and momma cow at the fence. Little baby lambs mewing about and one allowed us to pet her. But I was somewhat dismayed when an intern said the last word she would use to describe the farm was peaceful. Working on the farm was apparently no cup of tea. These people toil long and hard to take care of these animals. I am reminded of how little we actually think about where our food comes from...
The rooster crowing always takes me back to dad's rooster, crowing every hour in the night. Did he know it wasn't morning yet? Was he lost or complaining? Was he looking for his maiden? The neighbors of Closter, NJ wanted answers. Like, why does he have chickens in the middle of suburbia?
