“Sitting at the table, watching the cards being dealt, I heard a man say that the difference between an amateur and a pro is that the pro doesn't have an emotional reaction to losing anymore. It's just the other side of winning. I guess I'm a farmer now, because I'm used to loss like this, to death of all kinds, and to rot. It's just the other side of life. It is your first big horse and all he meant to you, and it is also his bones and skin breaking down in the compost pile,
“Working with living creatures, both plant and animal, is what makes agriculture different from any other production enterprise. Even though a product is produced, in farming the process is anything but industrial. It is biological. We are dealing with a vital, living system rather than an inert manufacturing process. The skills required to manage a biological system are similar to those of the conductor of an orchestra. The musicians are all very good at what they do individ
“Cook things, eat them with other people. If you can tire your own bones while growing the beans, so much the better for you.”
-Kristin Kimball; The Dirty Life Each year in May when the first hot day arrives we all think to ourselves, "can I do this all Summer?". The air is heavy with humidity, our bodies are drenched with sweat, and there is no escape from the sun bearing down on us. Every heat wave finds us out there from sunrise to late afternoon, doing intense physical
No matter how great of a farmer one is, there are still a bunch of pests that have to be dealt with and we've all lost a crop to some type of pest no matter what we've done. So often it is forgotten that in farming we are working with nature not against it. Nature of course is impossible to control. Even in the act of controlling it, through the use of herbicides, pesticides, tillage and more, problems are created. Heavy tillage destroys the life in soil and the mycelial n
Lead -Mary Oliver Here is a story
to break your heart.
Are you willing?
the loons came to our harbor
and died, one by one,
of nothing we could see.
A friend told me
of one on the shore
that lifted its head and opened
the elegant beak and cried out
in the long, sweet savoring of its life
which, if you have heard it,
you know is a sacred thing.,
and for which, if you have not heard it,
you had better hurry to where
they still sing.
And, believe me,