Two days ago, I hopped in the car on an absolutely beautiful fall day to make the short drive to Lake Geneva to pick up our side of beef. This is an annual trek we have been making for four years now and once again I find myself sitting here on this first day of November, grateful beyond words for what we now have in our home.
With each piece of meat, wrapped neatly in crisp white butcher paper, I placed into our deep freezer, I was reminded of the farmers who went out each and every day to bring cool water to this animal. Who raised it with the utmost care and dignity. Who allowed it to roam free upon the fields of grasses that it was created to consume.
And I too am so very thankful for the animal itself, who gave of its life so that my family may have sustenance. I cannot think of any other way I would rather consume meat.
My entire family is very well aware of where this food came from. We have walked upon the green pasture where this steer roamed. We shook hands, chatted and laughed with the farmer who raised it. We know our food. We know our farmer. And for that, I am ever so grateful.