Welcome to Two Pigs Farm
My favorite Vermont story is about the city kid and the toad. A youngster comes up to Vermont for a couple of weeks one summer and, as he is walking down a dirt road, spies a large green toad. He soon starts to poke it with a stick. A local boy happens by and says, “Quit poking that toad!” The city kid shoots back, “Well, he’s my toad, ain’t he?” The country boy responds, “Nope. Here in Vermont, he’s his own toad.”
That pretty much sums up Vermont and why we love to spend so much time here. It’s full of people who do what they like without caring much about the opinions of others. (My favorite old-timer used to talk to his divining rod as if it were alive — “Tell me Mr. Stick, is it deep?”) We hunt rabbits, turkey, and deer. We raise our own beef and pork and keep hens for eggs. We have half a dozen beehives, a large sugaring operation, and grow our own potatoes, apples, root vegetables, and corn. In summers, we hike up into the mountains to discover a waterfall, an abandoned farm or just see a red-tailed hawk overhead. Or the kids tape together a cardboard boat and sail it on the pond (until it sinks of course).
I grew up in this mountain village back in the fifties and sixties. I worked on a dairy farm owned by the Bentleys and helped out at their Yellow Farmhouse on rainy days. That’s where I learned to cook — from Marie Briggs, the town baker. The cooking was done on a green wood-fired Kalamazoo cookstove. A large green pump handle stood in the sink. The fresh milk — spotted with the occasional fly — was from the Holstein out back. The main room — part living room, dining room and parlor — had the unmistakable odor of wet dog, wood smoke, molasses, yeast, apple butter, leather, and a faint undercurrent of dry horse manure. It is the happiest scent I know.
Today, we boil our own sap and sell the maple syrup through this website. I apologize if supplies are limited. You can also arrange to stay at one of our guesthouses located in the next town.
Welcome to the farm. We hope that you enjoy your visit.
