It has occurred to me recently, that of all the things that happen on this farm, the pigs seem to attract the most attention. Rarely do we ever discus how the cows did something crazy, or how the sheep kept us busy chasing them for hours. No, it’s all about the pigs. Pigs are prima-donnas. A case in point: yesterday evening, after a long day of fence-work, Kirley and I went to move the pigs. Sadly, a young pig had died in the back of one of the pig-houses. Less sad and more disgusting, it had not died recently. It’s crusty, wrinkly skin held what might have been jell-o squishing inside its bloated body. Need I bother to describe the smell? Ikk. Kirley, who was far braver than I (who wanted to go get a shovel and a wheel barrow), borrowed my gloves, grabbed onto its four feet, and carried it through the pig field and tossed it into a ravine. I would like to take this moment to let everyone out there know that Erin Kirley is amazing. After that, the two of us took the evening off early. I tossed my gloves into the washer with lots of bleach, cooked and ate pork ribs (the very recipe below), and thought to myself: it wouldn’t be worth it if they didn’t taste so damn good.