Taking Care of What Matters Most

For the first nineteen years, the farm was something Cody and I carried every single day. We were fortunate to have people who helped us along the way, but when the storms came, the animals needed care, or something broke, we were the ones responsible for figuring it out.

If you're lucky enough to have a supportive partner, you share responsibility together. One of you hauls kids to activities while the other finishes chores. Sometimes dinner is eggs because everyone's too tired to cook anything else. Sometimes one of you heads out in the middle of the night because the animals still need you.

In many ways, it's not that different from everyday family life. The biggest difference is that there isn't much opportunity to truly step away.

For a long time, I didn't think that was possible.

Over the last couple of years, we've worked hard to build a team we trust, people who care about this place and these animals as much as we do. It didn't happen overnight. Trust has to be earned. Systems have to be built. You have to teach people, communicate well, and accept that they may not do everything exactly the way you would.

Most of all, you have to let go. That was probably the hardest part for me.

The first few times I left the farm, I couldn't stop thinking about everything happening back home. Were the animals okay? Did everyone have what they needed? Was I forgetting something?

But little by little, I learned something surprising: the farm was okay.

The animals were cared for. The work got done. And I came home rested, clearer, and more grateful than I'd been in a long time. Looking back, I wish I'd learned that lesson sooner.

It takes a certain kind of person to be a farmer. You're always watching the weather, making contingency plans, and thinking three steps ahead. This work teaches you to expect the unexpected. At the same time, it teaches you optimism.

Every season brings new challenges and new lessons. Some years it's drought. Some years it's floods. This year, it's been the ticks! Somehow you get up the next morning believing tomorrow will be better, or at least believing you've learned enough to do things differently next time.

The rewards make all of it worthwhile. Watching the sunrise over the pasture, caring for contented animals, seeing the soil grow healthier year after year, and raising food that nourishes our family and so many of yours.

That's the work I love.

For a long time, I thought being responsible meant carrying everything myself. But I've learned that isn't true. My job isn't to do every task, fix every problem (or fence!), or make every decision alone.

My job is to be a caretaker. A caretaker of animals, of land, of soil, of forage.

I'm only here for a short time in the life of this land. That's why I've come to believe that stewardship isn't just about taking care of the farm, it's also about taking care of the people responsible for it. Sometimes the best thing you can do for the land you love is trust someone else with it for a little while, step away, and come back ready to care for it again.

This summer reminded me that rest isn't something you earn once all the work is finished, because on a farm, the work is never really finished. Rest is simply another part of caring well for what you've been given.

Have you found time to step away this summer? Even if it was just for a day or two, I'd love to hear where you went or what helped you recharge. Leave a comment and tell me your story.

Your Farmer,
Andrea