DAY OFF DAY.

It's around 6:30 a.m., I'm drinking coffee, writing this post, chatting with my beautiful wife, watching Further adroitly manipulate his bouncer, and just generally relaxing. And it feels amazing. Usually at this time I would be anxiously pounding away at an upcoming article while haphazardly preparing breakfast so that I could get into the fields. But not today. Today is Sunday, and I'm taking the darn thing off.I haven't been taking days off this year. Not really. It's been too busy, and we've been shorthanded. Of course, not taking days off is very common for farmers. And since we dry farm––that is, we do not use irrigation––we don't always get to have the luxury of choosing which days work best to take off. If the soil is ready, we work.But I've realized I need these days off. I need a consistent day that I can just do what I want to do without the pressure of the garden weighing on me. The pigs still have to be fed, and the chickens, cats and dog. But I have been overdoing it a lot lately. I vomited while picking garlic this year. I caught myself on the verge of exhaustion or dehydration multiple times. Stress has been high. This, as you can imagine, is not sustainable.Sustainability, of course, is the goal. We say it often, but sustainability is not just about how you farm, but how you feel after farming. It needs to be viewed holistically. One can not be sustainable if they are going down several days a year due to overworking.So Sundays it is. And when it can't be Sundays (like in the Spring when you literally might only get one day a week to work the soil), it will be another day. If we are going to make this a sustainable life, we need a day off. We need a day to chat, drink coffee, make faces at babies and write blog posts about it, because that's what we want to do. Of course, as I finish this post––I kid you not––I look out into our yard and see a piggy on the loose. Oh well. Perhaps days off are more of a state of mind, which will have to be good enough today.- Jesse.

THE FEVER.

Every year, from May until Julyish––it's not much of a science––things get hard on the farm. Not just physically hard, but emotionally, too. I go through this period of feeling totally and utterly overwhelmed. There is so much work to do, and try as I may it doesn't seem to decrease with effort. It increases, mockingly. The feeling is hard to explain. In some ways, it feels like ordinary stress. In other ways, it sorta feels hopeless.But I've also learned that this overwhelmed feeling acts very much like a fever. It builds and builds and builds until the point in which I wonder if I can even go on another week. Then without warning it just disappears, and my mood returns like "Hey what's up?" I suddenly feel completely normal again. I suddenly feel healthy and happy. I suddenly feel like what we do is possible.It's uncanny how reliable it is––that the fever will come and the fever will break at some point in time. But also, I'm glad it's reliable. The first year I had it, I really thought I was not going to be able to survive as a farmer. Then in late July it broke and I was back to normal, excited to be a farmer again. Sane.Is it avoidable? Not sure. I think the more set-up we become on our farmstead, and the better I become at planning and managing the farm––yes. Yes, it will at least one day become a smaller, or more tolerable fever. But until then I have to rely on the fact that it will come, but it will also go away eventually. It is not terminal. This too shall pass. Take a nap, eat some tomato sandwiches, and call me in the morning. If I can keep that in mind, I will always make it through, like I did this week. Like I do every year. Like always.- Jesse.

THE MARKET ON MAIN.

Small farmers get a lot of credit for the new local food movement, but perhaps more deserving of that credit are the people who build the markets, battle with local governments for permits, organize and facilitate said movement––people like Jamie Aramani (of sustainablekentucky.com). Jamie is an absolute inspiration to us and few people have done more for small farmers in Kentucky than this wonderful lady. For years she has promoted small farms, organized events like the Green Living Fair and WildFest, and written for many publications about the importance, value and lives of the small farmers in our dear state. If you regularly read our site, it might very well be because of something Jamie––one our very first supporters––wrote. Remember when we raised $8000 to build our cabin? We could not have done that without Jamie's help. No way.And now, excitingly, she and her crew are crowdsourcing money for a permanent retail location in which to sell local food and products year-round. This project is designed to help support local farmers not just for a few hours a week during summer at their busy farmers' market in Somerset, but year-round, creating more income for them, and more exposure for local food in Kentucky.So please join us in making this retail location become a reality. They're only trying to raise $15,000 and are halfway there already. But we still have to get that last half in the next week! Even if all you can afford to do is share this campaign on your social media, that would be huge. Write something for your blog if you keep one. Maybe you can kick in a few dollars if you have it––every little bit helps.To support people like Jamie, and projects like this, is critical if we want to keep growing this movement. Luckily, the internet makes that easy. Click, donate and share. Thank you all.- Jesse + Hannah.Photo from The New Pioneer.

THIS & THAT.

Some random photos from the past week.Further loves sweet peppers...and his bouncy swing.All the rain has filled the forest with fun mushrooms. We seem to find a new kind every day! Oh, summer harvests.The shiitake logs are looking great! The white means its working.Making bouquets for market.