Fanning the fire midweek, we are tossing you a spontaneous quote, question, or conundrum related to Monday’s post. We invite you to riff on this prompt or share a story—heartbreaking or hilarious—to spark further conversation about the path of motherhood.

When I am not dreaming of the ocean, what comes to mind when I hear the word “source” are origins and, at the moment, especially the origination of our food. At dinner the other night, my three-year-old, Afton, asked where the chicken we were eating came from. Before any of us could reassure her that none of our flock had been sacrificed for the meal, she launch into a rather detailed, somewhat gory, and surprisingly accurate explanation of how our dinner got onto the table. As I swallowed down a laugh, I replied, “Yes, and that is why we offer gratitude for our food before each meal.”

Cirque des PouletsAt our humble homestead, we do try to have a connection to our food chain. We source our meat and raw dairy from our dear friends at Frog Belly Farm. Our “girls” provide yummy eggs and the kids have even witnessed an egg being laid. And, our garden offers meaningful work and ample veggies this time of year. I am a little disappointed in my measly chard and kale this season, but six-year-old farmer Haven’s squash has taken over the garden and more than makes up for any other crop failures.

Overgrown squahI am sure sure many of you have stories of your own to tell. Bring it on. And, Happy 4th!