Every year, about this time, Mother Nature declares war on Miles Smith Farm. Her weapon is ice.

For New Year's Eve, the weather was all warm and balmy with shirt-sleeve temperatures, no wind, and pretending it didn't try to kill us the we…

A while ago, when I found Stash, one of my Scottish Highland oxen, dead in the field, I was devastated, but it also left his teammate, Topper,…

Sometimes, when I'm not looking, a miracle sneaks up on me. I'm not talking about the supernatural kind of miracles but about the super-wonder…

Miles Smith Farm would not be possible without a partner like my husband, Bruce.

Nighttime air is crisp. Trees are orange and red as their leaves change color and fall to the ground. Overhead, wedges of geese honk as they p…

Buttercup, a 4-month-old half-Scottish Highlander calf, had been a lively participant in our summer camp. For two weeks in July, kids had brus…

Typically Miles Smith Farm breeding is timed, so calves are born in early spring, so their mothers can get an entire season of abundant green …

Abby the sheep and June the heifer waited calmly next to their human teammates at the starting line. At the signal, they were off on a relay r…

The sun slid down behind the hills, leaving streaks of red in the sky. As I sat on the front doorstep, watching a crow float over the valley c…