THE NEW FARM.

I want to share something––something we haven’t really had a chance to say in our blistering sprint to get this farm started: we really like the new place, and we’re really happy here.The move was scary. Truly. With so many unknowns about this new farm while leaving a place we knew we loved, a cabin we had built, and customers we adored, made it particularly frightening. But now, a year after we first decided to go for it, we are feeling good. We are feeling like this was the right decision for our family, for our business, for all the reasons we had decided to move in the first place.Decisions are challenging occasions and rarely pristine. There are always unwanted sacrifices that must be made one way or another, and knowing you made the right ones isn’t always tangible thing. Our business is growing and our garden is doing well this year––both of which we can measure––but those aren’t the only measurements of success in a decision like this. For two people, now parents, who got into farming more or less to homestead, the success of a decision like this is measured, for lack of better word, in feeling. A year later does it feel right? Does it feel good? Are we heading in the right direction? Can we build the life we want here? And when I ask myself those questions strolling through the garden at six in the morning, or moving the sheep around the pasture, or watching Further chase the ducks out of his kiddie pool, the answer is unequivocally yes. It feels great. It feels like home.We have received a lot of help, love, and support over the years, and we know how incredibly lucky we are for that. We have learned how critical it is when starting one farm––let alone four (yeah, this is RDF’s forth)––to have people believing in you. We are so thankful for everyone who has helped get us here and stood by us through the ups and downs, written us letters, supported our cabin campaign, bought our produce and t-shirts, all of it. Ultimately, this farm is the product of your support, and we hope you feel an attachment to it. You helped get this small farm going and we hope it feels that way to you––like your new farm, too. And in that spirit, I have to say, guys, I think we did good. I think we got a keeper.Thank you.-Jesse.

JOY AND PAIN.

We promise ourselves, at the beginning of every season, “NO LIVESTOCK THIS YEAR.” No animals, only vegetables. That’s what we always say. Livestock adds a whole new element of chaos and unpredictability to farming that we often find exasperating and demoralizing. Livestock adds the emotional gamble that comes with loving creatures alongside the inevitability of death, through loss or slaughter. Livestock adds a lot of work to our already impossible list of chores. And yet – here we are again. We find, year after year, that a farm (to us) just doesn’t make sense without animals. The life they bring to our farm - through fertility, through their nourishment to our family, or simply just by their very presence - is key to our sustainability.So, when our friend reached out to us about some ducks he wasn’t able to care for properly, we were excited. There is a large pond behind our house, overgrown with algae, desperately in need of some movement and life to clean it out. Our neighbors have chickens and are always willing to share chicken eggs, so ducks seemed like a perfect fit!The ducks arrived and we quickly set up their coop and electric fencing to encircle the pond. We released them and watched as they waded into the murky pond, jumping and splashing about and just looking blissfully in their element. It took maybe ten minutes before one duck let out a loud squawk and started flailing about, swimming in tight little circles as if stuck. We stared in confusion as it continued to spin around, growing more and more tired as it began to go underwater for longer and longer periods of time. We thought it must have gotten its leg tangled in something and, unwilling to watch it slowly drown to death, Jesse and I waded into the pond (luckily, we had friends visiting who were able to watch Further during this adventure!). Jesse used a long stick to push the now completely limp duck to the edge of the pond.Well, maybe you have already guessed what we were oblivious to, but when I pulled the duck out, attached to the back of it was a SNAPPING TURTLE. I screamed and quickly pulled my legs out from the pond, falling onto the shore. The turtle slipped back into the pond, and we sat in shock, realizing that we had just released the ducks into one large death trap.In a literal matter of minutes, we experienced all the emotions that come with having livestock: the joy and pleasure of watching animals living in their ideal habitat, the sorrow of pain and loss, the anger and frustration of being at odds with predators just doing what they naturally do. For the next few days, we didn’t let the ducks have access to the pond while we tried to catch the turtle. And to make the story very brief and short on gory details, we caught the turtle and killed it. We waited and didn’t catch another one, so we are hoping there was only one. The injured duck seems like it will survive. The ducks are now back in the pond.We hate this part of farming, but as any farmer knows, death is a part of farming. If we could have thought of a way to remove the turtle without killing it, we would have. I know this story may bother some people. But this is what worked for the time and situation: we had to remove the turtle, a danger to our animals and to our son. I am horrified thinking of all the times Further and I walked barefoot around the edge of the pond, wading into the edge to grab a cattail or frog.And with this hardship of death comes the promise of life: more eggs already than we can eat, feeding our family and other families we love. Happy ducks rejuvenating an anaerobic pond. A cleaned-out coop adding bountiful material to the compost pile that will grow more food in years to come. It is hard, and it is good. And so it goes.- Hannah.

LONG OVERDUE UPDATE.

It has been quite a spring, and this poor space has been so neglected. We apologize for that! We are making it a priority to start finding the time to post here – social media makes it easy to fire off quick photos and captions, but we miss our little blog community!So, here is a very brief update of our past month or so, to catch you up:We put up two high tunnels, thanks to an NRCS grant and the fine folks at Grow Appalachia. The tunnels were immediately filled with plants overflowing from our tiny greenhouse: cherry tomatoes, sweet peppers, basil, cucumbers, and squash. We also installed drip tape irrigation in the tunnels – a VERY new experience for us as we have never really used any type of irrigation before, other than praying for rain! We are still getting the hang of it, but everything in the tunnels looks great!We now have SHEEP! We took a trip back down to Bugtussle to visit with our old neighbors, and while we were there we picked up seven Katahdin sheep. Their main job is to help us control the 6+ acres of pasture that we are definitely not going to mow. We have loved having them around and also loved that they are already trained to a rotational grazing system and an electric fence!The CSA started and the season has been going great so far. We are enjoying getting to know the new members and, although we miss the social aspect of the farmers market, we spend so much less time doing the deliveries and one of us is able to stay at the farm while the other does the drop-offs.We also have DUCKS! This is a very recent addition and also a long story, in need of its own post, but they are a fun new chore to add to the list and our counters are already overflowing with delicious eggs.Well! That is what we have been up to! We miss you, blog friends, and hope to be more regularly visiting this space! Happy summer!– Hannah.

SPRING (!?) IS IN THE AIR.

The weather, as I am sure you are aware, has been crazy lately. Spring (and SUMMER) like temperatures, trees and flowers blooming, everything growing much faster than we would perhaps like! We spent yesterday outside, setting out broccoli and cabbage transplants to make room in our crowded greenhouse. It is hard not to get ahead of ourselves when it is this warm - hard to remember that we could still have winter weather around the corner. Luckily, brassicas are pretty hardy, and just in case, we covered them up with row cover to protect them from cold and the inevitable cabbage moths.While we worked, I couldn't help but reflect on some of the words we had heard over the weekend from Wendell Berry, at the Organic Association of Kentucky conference. He had spoken about the "human" element in farming. How farming cannot become just an industry, or technology will replace farmers. If farming is first and foremost an art, then there must be humanity in it. Good farming is aesthetically pleasing and beautiful - a place where there is a balance between the product you are creating and the homeplace. As I kneeled beside my husband with my hands in the dirt, as Further played on top of the compost pile a few feet away, as we let the sun and cool air refresh our overwintered skin - I felt the truth of those words. Yes, we are creating a product. We are making money, trying to become more efficient and knowledgeable so we can do better always. But we are also building a family and a home and a life. And we are ready for another season, even if spring seems to have come a little earlier than we might have hoped!-Hannah.