An energetic stillness fell over the Agricultural Hall Sunday morning.

Upon approaching the pigpen at North Tabor Farm, a visitor will encounter two sensations: the faint ammoniac smell of swinish manure, and the cacophonous duet of squeaks, chirps and hisses of the farm’s two defense geese, Lucy and Lorenzo.

When you read the word "pasture," the image that likely comes to mind is of undulating green hills, or maybe a flat green field.

When Dr. Daniel Fisher cut a road through the woodlands, it was with agriculture in mind.

Bucolic is a word that often comes to mind on the Vineyard, where jaggy oak forests give way to rolling, soft green pastures.

The strawberry festival at Morning Glory Farm last weekend was a rainy affair, but then again it often is.