In addition to waiting for the snow to finally stop falling and melt from our fields, my dear husband and I have also been waiting to become pregnant: a journey that feels equally powerless and beautiful.

The waiting is not easy but I’m learning to lean in.

Five years ago I was ready to sell.  It was hard.  It was no fun anymore.  After learning how to nurture soil health and trying to mimic nature, I started observing and fell in love with my land, my animals, my environment.

I loved the physical act of working the land--the lines on my palms caked with soil, the great and satisfying sound a carrot makes when you pull it from the earth.

I chuckle to myself when people say to me "You are so lucky to be a farmer!" or "I would love to do what you are doing!".  Yes, I do feel lucky but also know that their romantic version of farming is far from reality.

I’ve found that farming commands an unparalleled level of commitment and intestinal fortitude.  You don’t just start a farm overnight and you certainly don’t make it a viable one on inspiration alone. 

I wish people understood the false sense of cheap, the full cost of their superficial fickleness, the depth of manipulation behind so many of our food provisioning traditions. The reality of just how much time cooking real food actually takes, how it is possible to eat better on less money, and how important agriculture is to the foundation of our society. And how fragile our water future is. 

Farming is not a man’s job. Farming is not for the old and poor. Farming presents a means to feed yourself, family and community - Christabel Afrane, Ghanian farmer and business woman

I come from long lines of german farmers, including PA dutch farmers. Stern. Strong. Hardworking, no bullshit farmers.

“Being persistent is a must. There are days you don’t want to do the dirty work, but you must. There’s jobs I’ve had to tackle over and over again, and without persistence I would never have conquered them.”

Start where you are - an essay by Anne Becker