Our Profession of Hope

posted on

November 20, 2023

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When we moved into our current house, there was a sun-faded print on the wall that said simply, “Farming Is A Profession Of Hope.”

The phrase has repeated itself in my mind over the years and I’m always struck by the duality of the message and wonder if it was intended. And if the duality was an accident of words, I wonder which was the intended meaning.

Do the faded words mean we are attesting (professing) that we have hope? Or does it mean that it is a vocation (a profession) that gives hope? Or, a third possible meaning – it is an occupation that requires hope?

Or perhaps they are all one and the same, bound together.

A choice of profession that indicates an innate confession that we have hope, because without hope we could not succeed at this difficult task of farming which, in its turn, bestows hope.

Perhaps it may seem superfluous, to apply meandering philosophic thoughts to farming and its set of tasks so deeply grounded and made possible by science, engineering and technology.

But the art of observation, of the ability to truly be able to see what the land and animals are telling us, to appreciate nuance, is needed, too. And isn’t that the seed of philosophy? To attempt to understand a world that so often seems without reason. To undertake that endeavor is to have hope.

Which brings us, at last, back to farming.

Yes, I can tell you that we, your farmers, profess that we have hope. To persevere in such a maelstrom of unknowns as this, hope is a requirement.

You see, it’s going to rain when you really need the soil to dry out. It’s not going to rain when the grass is withering and dying of drought. Illness will arrive despite your best preventions. The list is always too long to accomplish. And pretty much every predator, whether on the land or in the air, thinks chicken is the best meal to enjoy every day of the week.

So, in the face of all that, hope is required to forge ahead.

And yet, seemingly at odds, this profession that requires hope to even attempt it also BESTOWS hope.

I spent much time pondering this duality, because while I felt it to be true in my heart my mind needed to understand why.

And I think, in part, we are blessed with the gift of hope by the very trials that require us to face them with hope.

You see, these events we call trials are all part of the natural cycles of this beautiful planet. The cycle of life and death, of destruction and birth and regrowth, and the constant eating and being eaten of all the life forms around us, from the most microscopic to the largest.

I realized, finally, that being intimately connected to this constant, natural cycle is what is so grounding and gratifying. The seasons change and the cycle of life moves on, inexorably, with or without our consent.

And day after day, year after year, we see the growth and perseverance and restoration all around us, and in this we find our hope.

And we are not alone in this. Through the miracles of technology we are members of diverse farming groups around the country (the world, really), and what we hear and read coming from these other farmers is beyond inspiring.

We all face many, many challenges, but smart, resourceful, dedicated, motivated people all over the country, and the world, are coming together and they’re not there to complain, place blame, or criticize.

Instead they are all sharing their experiences, their knowledge, and their skills to pull everyone up together as we all reach towards the same goals of feeding our communities and tending our soil, our animals, and our mother earth with love and respect.

Let me tell you, innovation (the child of hope) is rampant! Every day we're reading of a brilliant solution a fellow farmer developed for one of the many challenges we all face. And these farmers are not trademarking their ideas, either. Nothing distant and proprietary, here. They're handing out their ideas for free. Because they're just so darn excited to successfully solve a problem and they want everyone else to be saved the same blood, sweat and tears they poured out. 

Each regenerative farm that succeeds is not competition. They're inspiration. And encouragement. That together we can truly make a difference in the future health of our environment, our animals, and our customers.

The immense intelligence of our fellow farmers, being thrown at the problems that we all face, is heartening.

Hope. Hope. Hope!

It is our joy to share this hope with you.

And we hope you know just how important you are to us, and just how necessary you are in this cycle of hope.

Without you, making the choice you do to buy your food from us, all the hope we bring to the profession would be for naught.

And the hope that can be gifted on the world by this profession of regenerative, earth healing, body healing, direct-connection-to-your-food farming would trickle away.

We feel blessed to be your farmer and connect you, through your food, to the earth that sustains us and the HOPE that it bestows.

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Big News - We're moving to Chimacum!

The news I want to share with you today is so momentous for us that I hardly know where to begin. Then, after spinning and spinning on it for ages, I realized the facts can actually be stated in one very concise sentence. So here goes. We’ve bought a house and are moving our family and our farm to Chimacum. Woohooo!!!! See, one simple sentence. Haha, Charlotte. Not so hard, after all. But my struggle has been real because this is truly BIG news for us. And for our farm, and therefore for you. Which is why I’ve been so excited and anxious to share it with you. Now, I know people move every day. And usually much farther than from Marrowstone Island to Chimacum. And anytime anyone becomes a home owner it is reason for rejoicing. So why the big deal? The honest truth is that as farmers we are intimately connected to the land we farm. From deep in the soil to the top of the tallest tree, we learn the quirks and magnificence of the land, how everything fits together, and how we can be the best stewards for our little piece of creation. Therefore to have our own place, that we know is ours into the future, is soul affirming. We can put down deep roots and make improvements to last. We can dive into learning the land, and learning from the land, and know that it’s not a temporary detour but a permanent bit of earth that we can pour our hearts and souls into, without the sadness of having to walk away. Of course, you absolutely can farm on leased land. We have successfully been doing so for a decade, and we have loved and appreciated our time on Marrowstone Island. The land has been good to us, it is where we learned to be newlyweds and farmers, and where our children have played. Our farm and our family have grown up around us here and we will take with us many special memories. And in fact, we will always need to lease additional land - over the years our cows, independent creatures that they are, have enjoyed many different views around the county. And there is resiliency in being able to keep your farm mobile and dynamic. But with leased land, there is never true stability. The improvements you make may not be yours to enjoy. We have experienced firsthand the scramble to relocate due to various situations that have arisen with leases, and it’s nerve wracking to always have that uncertainty in the back of your mind when many, many beating hearts (and hungry bellies) are dependent on you. So, despite leaving the only place we’ve known in our lives together, with this move Martin and I feel that we are finally going home. And while I am making this announcement today, this is a project that has been in the work for many years. Perhaps you’ve already gleaned hints and allusions to this plan from various conversations with us over time. Maybe you’re wondering why the big news today? Because after years of planning and re-planning, visioning and dreaming, going in fits and starts, the final concrete thing is happening. We ordered a manufactured home and just got word that it will be delivered by June!!!!! The farm is finally going to have a home for the farmers – and soon. Oh, my goodness. I’ll confess to a bit of overwhelm, in addition to the excitement. A move is always big, and moving a farm is, well, hmmmm… Let’s just say, a lot to manage. But our grounding thought that keeps us sane, is “Everything Is Coming Together.” You see, this plan didn’t just start with Martin and I a few years back. Our Chimacum farm is a special place with a long history of love of family and dedication to the land, and we look forward to sharing it with you. The farm began to take shape when my parents purchased it as a piece of raw land nearly three decades ago. 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I guy with the crazy dream of raising so, so much good food for his community. A farmer without a farm. So as my family moved on to other pursuits, Martin and I began tending the cows and the family farm together. But the Chimacum farm was always missing one important thing – a home for the farmers. So we built our life and our family together on Marrowstone, and continued to tend the farm in Chimacum at a distance. Then, a few years back, my parents committed an tremendous act of love. Love for their family and the farm. They sold Martin and I the farm, not at the market rate, but at a rate that could be supported by our farm. And my brothers, too, gave great benevolence in their happy consent, which is no small thing.  In this world of skyrocketing land prices, families are breaking up and farms are dying over who inherits the farm – or rather the money from the exorbitant sale price of the farm. 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Since I was a teenager and began helping with the raw land, it has always been a captivating place for me, full of love and dreams and blood, sweat and tears (quite literally blood and tears, as I was tasked with removing most of the old rusty barbed wire fence).  I won’t even tell you about standing on top of a ladder, on top of scaffolding, on top of the truck bed, helping mom hold beams in place as dad fastened together the hay barn. Fear and triumph build strong devotion. Later, I clearly remember the first time I took Martin to see the farm. As a Landscape Architect, and as a farmer, he sees endless possibilities all around for beautiful, bountiful production. After walking through the farm, very quietly he said quite simply that it was magical. And he wanted to be a part of it. And it really is a magical place, as our children, now the third generation of our family to tend the farm, have discovered. Full of woods and glens and meadows, it is teaming with life and a myriad of diverse ecosystems. The “Fairy Glen” and the “Robin Hood Tree” are two of the Farmhands favorite places on the farm, and they have plans for much development of their nature playground. As we make the farm our home, we look forward to sharing its magic with you. Because we do not, for one minute, ever forget that you are the reason we have a thriving farm. And your ongoing, consistent support is helping us make a home for the farmers a reality. In return, it is our joy to share with you not just food for your body, but an authentic connection to the farmers who tend the land from which it came. As we finally live on the farm, day in and day out, we can’t wait to see what this little corner of Creation can provide for us together. A few weeks back, we got word that the construction crew was scheduling to excavate for our foundation. 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With a huge hole in the ground, it’s starting to dawn on me that this is really happening. Now. I’m sure there will be many before-and-after photos to share with you as things continue to happen over the next few weeks, but today we can officially say the move is under way. It won’t be long until Chimacum is home. Until then, we’re going to need all the calming, steadfast, productive thoughts and prayers you can send our way :) Everything is coming together. Shop Now