Daisy’s butter tells the story
I get the ooohs and aaahs, but all I did was churn and paddle.
It’s she, the eater of sunshine and wildflowers. She, the transformer of cellulose and soft winds. She, the giver of deep nutrition and immeasurable goodness. She is the one who deserves our awe.
But she doesn’t need compliments or fairytale stories. What she needs is reciprocity. A good life according to her.
A life as part of a herd. A life that affords her, a beast meant to play a role in the natural world, the ability to do that. Fields to fertilize, trees for shade, diverse life that includes her’s. A babe to not just deliver, but to mother and nourish.
They say it can’t be done because “they” can’t do. But small farms can. They say small farms won’t feed the world because “they” can. They can’t either, but on paper, their massive, empty-nutrient commodities look impressive. Don’t be fooled.
We feed the world by feeding our communities. We feed our communities by opting out of this broke ass food system and being part of the creation of a new one. A new one that looks a lot like the old.
Meet your local farmers. Contact your local Weston A. Price Foundation chapter leader. Go on eatwild.com to find local farmers in your area. Don’t wait for the system to change. Their incentive is, and always will be, the greatest volume grown with the biggest profit possible. It has to be. That’s the model.
The animals we’ve been given to nourish us are not mindless beings meant to keep alive as cheaply as possible until slaughter. I mean, it can be done, but it’s antithetical. Instead of contributing to the health of their environments, having fulfilling lives, and providing us with deeply nourishing foods, you end up with something that kind of looks the same, but is a poor mimic of what should be.
Daisy’s butter tells the story.
She’s dead now. We shot her under the old apple tree a couple of days ago. A few jars of her butter is all we have left. I’ve written about it, but that’s for later, not for now.
In the meantime, her legacy lives on. Her generous nourishment forever held up as the way things could be – should be, when we do it right.
Long live the Queen.