small farms

Ace was magnificent. His thick, cocoa colored fur rose to a spikey crest down his backbone and his curved horns were ridged, thick and powerful. Although he resembled a thug, equipped with Mohawk and weapons, he had a gentle disposition and would tip over when startled, just like the rest of the herd: Ace was a Tennessee Fainting Goat.

I’m a firm believer in the power of the marketplace, that every dollar we spend on food is a binary vote: either FOR an agriculture system that makes our bodies, our communities, and our environment healthier, or AGAINST it.