Almost exactly two months ago, while walking across the pasture and talking about our future on this land, CJ Morgan asked me to make the biggest decision of my life thus far. Lucky for me, it was an easy one. Yes! Now I get to look down at the ring I saw on my grandma’s hand throughout childhood. It’s a fitting symbol of our shared life as it’s because of her that we have the privilege of tending to this piece of earth.
Four days after the summer solstice, over 60 people gathered on our farm to celebrate the sun with good food and music. The Summer Solstice Show on June 25th was our first community event on the farm! This has been a longtime dream ever since I wrote into my vision statement — “Our dream is to foster a thriving perennial polyculture and to share it with our community through art, music, education, and community gatherings.”
Hope feels foolish sometimes. Like a sheltered child who hasn’t experienced the hard realities of the world yet. On the day that I’m writing this, I read about the silent decision from the Supreme Court to overturn the human right of autonomy over one’s body. Then I heard about the extreme decline of insects worldwide. Every day I have to turn the news off to safeguard my own well-being. And yet, I’m sitting here with a full heart after listening to Jane Goodall’s gentle voice and persistent hope in her podcast, Hopecast.
“Total beginning farmer moment,” I wrote in a text to my butcher the other day. I discovered that three of my beeves were a few months younger than I thought after talking with the farmer I bought them from. This meant that my butcher date was off by a few months and I was faced with the challenge of rescheduling. Given the limited number of processors in southern Ohio, particularly USDA-inspected processors, it is challenging to get a butcher date on the calendar. My processor requires producers to schedule one year in advance.
I’m writing this newsletter while sitting outside watching sap boil. Nothing feels more like late winter than sitting outside in the chilly weather and smelling the syrup cooking. Today’s high is 56 degrees, there’s not a cloud in the sky, and daffodil shoots are reaching up from the frozen mud. While I know this is one of our many false springs in southeast Ohio, it is a welcome change.
The cycle has come full circle. My first set of calves that I got in March 2020, for whom I hauled fresh water, broke solid ice on water tanks during cold mornings, scratched heads, taught to respect the electric fence, brought to fresh pasture almost daily, and cared for over 21 months — have gone to the butcher. Many people have asked about my feelings surrounding this sober event. I have felt so many varying emotions over the past couple weeks. Here are some of them…
Life is full! As November arrives, I’m reminding myself of the blessings of a busy life. The days pass quickly, but they are filled with good things – moving the cows, hauling water, preparing for winter, helping to flip my boyfriend’s house, putting the garden to rest, making jewelry. And of course, working at Rural Action to build a strong local food economy. As Rural Action’s Sustainable Agriculture Program Manager, I get the opportunity to step back from the minutiae of starting up my little farm in order to see the bigger “food systems” picture in southeast Ohio, the Appalachian region, the United States, the world.
I’ll be honest, July put me through the wringer. Between getting three stitches in my upper lip (next time I take my dog swimming in a lake, I’ll cut her toenails beforehand!) and contracting Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever (watch those ticks folks), I’ve been forced to slow down and tend my wounds. Working two jobs, traveling most weekends, and raising cattle have added to the craze of this summer. So naturally, I’ve been thinking about the art of tending to.
One year ago I bought some calves…and the world turned upside down. As someone who feels I need to be an expert before getting started, I was hesitant to jump in. However, a few mentors encouraged me to learn by doing and get some animals. One experienced grazier told me about how he bought his first heifer when he was 25 years old and had no fenced-in pasture. He put her out in the field and built the fence around her! So I got my first set of eight lowline angus calves.
If you know me well, you know that I have a particular distaste for inspirational quotes. While I seek inspiration from reading the likes of Wendell Berry, Barbara Kingsolver, or Robyn Wall Kimmerer, I appreciate a writer who can keep it real. So when I saw the above quote, I had to share it.
You can find messages everywhere you look that say plant-based diets will solve the climate crisis, you can also find proponents of eating meat to save the planet, and you can find individuals from both parties that have waged a vendetta against the other. I believe that food choices are contentious because we are what we eat. To attack someone's diet is to attack their very existence. I try to read widely and avoid proselytizing, so consider this simply my story of navigating our complicated food system.
I have been thinking about the mundane. The daily rhythm of farming. There are many interpretations of the above mentioned Buddhist proverb, but what I take from it is a lesson about mindset. The everyday acts of living are the same before and after enlightenment, it is only the mind that changes. I try to find a beauty and sacredness in the chores of caretaking for our chickens, horses, and cows. After all, these daily tasks make up the majority of my life.
