TAKE ME OUT TO THE BALL GAME.

You never think you'll become that dude. Never––growing up a hiphop fan, a skateboarder, a besotted twenty-something in New York––could you imagine yourself as the kind of person who sings "The Wheels on the Bus" or "Twinkle Twinkle" on a regular basis. But it happens.And you know what? Heck yeah it happens! It happens all the time with us and frankly, I love it. The other night, coming home from market, Hannah was in the front seat with me (as opposed to her usual back seat, nursing position) and Further was crying. Since Hannah couldn't just nurse him, we decided to sing. We sang "Twinkle Twinkle". We sang "The Rainbow Connection." We sang "You are my Sunshine". And, a personal favorite, "Take Me Out to the Ball Game." Twice. So long as we were singing, he was happy.Now, Hannah and I really work to not judge the way other people parent their children. Having one of our own, you just can't. It's a hard business, parenthood. We're learning that quickly. But singing like this, interacting with Further, having these ridiculous family moments, is important to us. We want him to grow up in a environment where we don't just hand him a device (again, no judging), but where our solutions to his discomfort encourage his, and our own, creativity.We won't always succeed at this. We know that. A movie or a tractor YouTube video will be, and has been, utilized. Sometimes we get frustrated and do nothing but grin and bear it. But by creating the goal itself, we can at least have a direction in how we deal with a disgruntled toddler, how we want to parent through the hard times: all together, creatively.And I like when it's singing. Hannah is the musical one, and hopefully he'll get a little of that. But it's okay if not, so long as he remembers that it's "Root root root for the CUBBIES," just like he learned in those ridiculous car rides home from the farmers' market.-Jesse.

IN PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS.

I had my first battle with depression while living in New York City. I simply woke up one morning––in the prime of my youth––and without any warning at all, felt small. Without any warning I felt sad. I was, without any warning, any specific reason, or any real cure, a mess. Just like that.And then it went away. And then it came back. And then it went away. And then it came back. About once a month, or every few weeks, I just went down. Though sometimes coupled with heartache, heavy drinking or stress, there seemed to be no real rhyme or reason to it. I was now just, as a young, healthy twenty-something, one of the millions of Americans who suffered from depression.As a writer, this seemed fitting––suffering was common among my favorite authors. But as a human being who had to live with this burdensome sadness, fitting was of little comfort. You've had sore muscles before, no doubt. Well depression feels like that, if your soul can be considered a muscle. It makes it hard to get out of bed, walk, talk or do just about anything necessary for life. Depression is a limp of the heart.Then for many years I just sucked it up and carried it around. I carried it to the wine shop where I feel my work certainly suffered on the bad days. I carried it to the bar, to my friend's houses, to brunch, to shows, everywhere. I never really dwelled on it, I just absorbed it into my character. Jesse Frost, sometimes sad.When I came to Bugtussle in 2010, I didn't expect it to go away. I had made this dramatic change in my life hoping it would, but didn't expect it to. And it didn't immediately. I remember one long night, a couple weeks into my internship, where I got a visit from the soreness and thought, "I guess you found me."But the other day Hannah and I were laying on our backs, smothering Further with kisses, while he laughed wildly. And I was laughing wildly. And my beautiful wife was laughing wildly. It was then that I realized six years had passed since my last bout with depression, six years since the last time I was anything but thrilled to get out bed.I'm not saying farming cured me, or family cured me, or could cure anyone else, but having gone this long without crippling sadness I'm not conceding it either. I eat better, I exercise a lot, I love what I do, and I have the most amazing people around me at all times. If I couldn't be happy in that, I must be broken.I also used to think of my depression as part of my character, but I don't see it that way anymore. My depression was not my personality, but a symptom of not doing what I was––forgive the cliché––meant to do with my life. Wild laughter, however, in the best of company, I believe, is a signal that I may be on the right track.- Jesse Frost, pretty darn happy.

IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE.

"Remember no man is a failure who has friends."We are definitely feeling the love this year from family and friends, filled to the brim with gratitude and blessings. We received so many amazing gifts, practical things that we truly needed, beautiful things we've been wanting, and so much more than we deserve.I hope your holiday was happy, healthy, and peaceful. And if it maybe wasn't, I hope you still know that you are loved. Merry Christmas, friends.- Hannah.

ALL THE THANKS.

To have a lot to be thankful for is a blessing. Not everyone, and not every small farmer, receives the support and love we do, and that fact is never lost on us. We are nothing if not grateful, and want to take this Thanksgiving to give a little thanks.This year has been a complete success and we could not have done it––in about a gazillion tangible and intangible ways––without the help and generosity of the Smith family. Thank you so much––you have no idea what you mean to us. Our shareholders––in both Nashville and Bowling Green––have been so wonderful. Thank you for letting us feed you. To our CSA members from last year, and to all who contributed to our cabin, don't think we've forgotten you! We are, now and forever, incredibly thankful for what you did, and what you built. To the Breedings––you know what you did. Much love! To Little Seed Farm, who make some of the best cheese this side of the Mississippi (probably both sides), thank you for all you do! We were so happy to be a part of your season this year, to have the pleasure of calling you friends, and we wish you all the best (and hope to see you soon)! To all our readers and friends, new and old, you guys rock. Thank you for being you and being awesome.Lastly, no less than a few dozen times this year, we were asked the question of how our parent's feel about what we're doing.  We are always able to easily reply that they are completely supportive of us. So to our parents, thank you for being you. We have met many people who do not receive the same love and compassion from their family, the same interest, and same encouragement that you give us, and have always given us. It is special and it is love and it does not go unappreciated or unnoticed. Thank you. We love you.Oh, and Wendell and the chickens and Charlie. Duh.Happy Thanksgiving all,Jesse and Hannah.