Finding Light in the Darkest Day

Celebrating Winter's Solstice - Nature's Turning Point

Greetings from the darkest day (but our spirits are bright)!

You know that magical feeling when the whole world seems to slow down and whisper, "Rest a while"? That's exactly what this past Saturday—the winter solstice—felt like on our little patch of Arkansas heaven (though the pigs didn't get the memo and were still demanding their breakfast at dawn).

Sure, it's dark at 4 pm, but hear me out. As a farmer, I've learned that you can't fight nature's rhythms (trust me, I've tried!). Our farm life is deeply woven into the tapestry of seasonal changes, like a well-choreographed dance that's been going on since time immemorial. While the summer solstice finds us in a whirlwind of activity, the winter solstice is our time to catch our breath, reflect, and—yes—hunt for the perfect Christmas tree!

It's become quite the family tradition around here. In the weeks leading up to the shortest day of the year, we all become amateur tree scouts. Farm chores become an opportunity for heated debates about which cedar tree would make the perfect centerpiece for our holiday celebrations. Eliza swears the towering 20-foot cedar by the south pasture is "absolutely perfect," while Andrea champions a “slightly” smaller but charming specimen near the back pastures. Let's just say our Christmas tree selection process makes Congress look like a model of quick decision-making!

There's something special about celebrating the solstice as a farming family. While the rest of the world might see it as the shortest, darkest day, we see it as a turning point—nature's promise that the light is coming back. It's like the earth is saying, "Hang in there, folks. Brighter days are ahead!"

Our solstice adventure had all the makings of a family sitcom. There we were, zigzagging across pastures and ducking under electric fencing on our annual cedar tree pilgrimage. The Livestock Guardian Dogs watched us curiously, probably wondering what these crazy humans were up to now.

When we finally found "the one"—a perfectly imperfect cedar that had all of us nodding in agreement—the sky was painted in incredible winter sunset colors that made us stop and stare. It was time to head back to the house and decorate the tree, armed with our totally professional tree-hauling technique (picture a three-legged race, but with a tree as an unwilling participant).

As we watched that shortest day come to a close, I couldn't help but feel grateful. Grateful for this land, for our farming lifestyle that keeps us so connected to nature's rhythms, and for you—our extended farm family who makes it all possible.