As a kid, pulling into the driveway of my grandparent’s Kissimmee home, my stomach rumbled and my mouth watered at the thought of what they had to snack on. Walking in the door: chips and sweets are scattered across the table, ingredients to assemble an impeccable sandwich at your fingertips, and whatever you fancy is stocked for drinking. Some kids wanted to go to McDonald’s for dinner. I wanted to go to Mema and Big Daddy’s.

They’ve been visiting us in Crockett for the last month and when they headed southeast this morning, I loaded three slap-full grocery bags of goodies they left behind. When I go back to feed the calf, I’ll grab the leftovers, saving us a grocery trip for at least the next week and help stock the scrap bag for my chickens.

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Filling the chick tray with scraps, grabbing my coffee, and doing the full-hands shuffle balancing it all, I pull on my blue rubber boots and walk to the coop. Breakfast is served; zucchini, white rice, and strawberries.

Surveying what my digging-in girls are devouring so I can feed more of what they like and not have to clean up what they don’t, I think about all the things centered around food. Obviously, it provides essential nutrients but culturally, food holds the power of bringing people together. Sharing a meal with family, friends, and community fosters a place to gather and strengthen bonds.

I grew up in a home where my mom was always ready to share food, drinks, and fellowship. So-and-so could always come over, our house was ready for entertaining at the drop of a hat, and she could find something to set out on a tray. She worked full-time so we didn’t have the afternoon tea Southern Living talked about in their posts over the weekend, but it felt like that. It helped that her best friend lived directly behind us and we were close to those in our neighborhood. As a result, I have strong ties to my parent’s friends and have built loyal relationships with my own. For years, I watched my grandparents cook and prepare meals for their kids and grandkids. Serving breakfast, packing coolers, baking cakes, and whipping up sandwiches for a group, I must have unknowingly been taking notes.

I was shown that feeding and being fed is an aspect of care and love, an act of kindness and devotion. Now, I’m carrying on the expression in the ways I serve those around me. The same as I would do for my friends and family, I give to my chickens, Rue and Dill, and the cows when I remember to pack an extra treat. The same reason I spend my evening preparing food for us to eat, I spend my mornings prepping food for the chickens and the dogs, taking good care of the things I love.

It sounds silly, talking about how I feed the animals with the same devotion as I feed my family. In all honesty, the cows and our chickens serve us every day of their lives (or they will come August), and well, the dogs are pure companionship but I’m keeping them healthy with the food I put in their body. It’s such an easy task to serve the animals that serve others every day of their lives with quality, fresh food.

Plus, just like my dad always said, the heart of an animal is through the stomach and what a flex it is when your animals run to you.