“Dear Farm Journal” is a creative project that connects people to their food and the farmers who bring it to life. We share our daily story to build community, advocate for small-scale organic farming, and appeal to the curiosity of those who want to know what farm life is all about.   

I make the local deliveries and contemplate the corn fields out my window. Some stalks are still standing. Others have been...

A que of brittle skeletons await removal in the greenhouse, dehydrated shells of tomato plants. I nimbly remove each supporting...

The northern hemisphere spins further into a season of unlit algidity and I take comfort in the warm glow of the greenhouses;...

The pigs have made quick work of their extended pasture. Five snouts, twenty hooves, and ten days transformed the space to muck...

An unhurried Sunday rolls around the farmhouse walls, and I find myself curled up with another Barbara Kingsolver book,...

I fetch a crate of living color and chop an invisible cloud of piquant aromas into the air around me. Cabbage, onions, garlic,...

A sparkle draws my eye to the concave curve of a spinach leaf. Stars of luster twinkle upon the snowflakes with the first blush...

Wendell Berry, American writer, environmental activist, cultural critic, and farmer, has been one of my idols since I learned...

Balio has been building up a pretty impressive mane of dreads, locked together with the seeds of a thousand prairie plants. He’s...

Between passing under the drizzling sky and washing produce, I was soaked to the bone. My Carhartts hung heavily from my...

The home winds blow unseasonably temperate air through the farmstead, and I slip one more barefoot day into the month of...

Although I intended to spend the day outside, I consumed the day in nonprofit research mode. It’s the first time in forever that...

Saturday was a celebratory day for so many reasons. The future just seems a little brighter and my hopes are a little higher for...

So, it took us a little longer than expected, but we’ve finished the extended pig pasture. Post hole digging is a job requiring...

I harvest German Winter Thyme for the morning orders as Gizmo and Balio zip across the yard. Ever since Gizmo has recovered from...

Day breaks over the eastern tree line, backlighting the greenhouses in a coral glow. I peek over the pig fence to find them...

Emerald foliage spills from the tops of the first winter share, a sign of our hoop house successes. This is the first year we’ll...

The harvest day discourse was juicy, flowing with inventiveness toward our vision. This week, we have a meeting with a nonprofit...

Those good ol’ Keewaydin winds didn’t show us any mercy today. As the coffee boiled, robust squalls rattled the old farmhouse...

The scariest part of my otherwise uneventful Halloween would have to be breaking up a dog fight. Rufus, Jessica, and I were all...

Jessica is like the big sister I never had to look up to. Her carpentry skill set, sturdy assurance, and capacity to boldly take...

Gumption: spirited initiative and resourcefulness. This is what my new sister in law, Jessica Haucke, brings to a farm project....

When the firstborn sunbeams crest the eastern horizon, I slip into my bibs and boots to lay open our covered crops, exposing...

Piggy Smalls and Wilbur grunt and snort at the fence line, keenly observing us, as we huff and puff fence posts into the ground...

At the forest fringe, we collect fallen ash chunks, a winter night’s heat. Wood collection lands on the back burner until wintry...

My eyes are drawn skyward out the window, following fluttering flakes to the cold earth. They seem to be sticking, each crystal...

We sweep the farm for frost fragile foods and cover those we hope will withstand the overnight lows. Even the greenhouses can’t...

These words are about to take flight from fluorescent screens and land on an outstretched branch of tangible pulp. Ope...

In a balked effort to pull two stubborn buckets apart, I received a sizable blood blister on my left thumb, a caustic inception...

The germ of the Poisonwood Bible has oozed into my subconscious. I dream of Africa by night and wonder about her by day. How...