I stopped writing—not because I ran out of things to say, but because life became too full. The farm kept growing, my family kept growing, and there was always something else that needed doing. Somewhere along the way, doubt crept in too: Does this matter if nobody is here to listen? But the stories never stopped. The chickens, the garden, the markets, the failures, the beautiful moments, and the ridiculous ones kept happening. So I'm starting again—not with a grand content strategy, but simply with a commitment to tell the story of this farm, one week at a time.

While most people spend Spring Break resting, life on the farm moves in the opposite direction. Long days, endless projects, screaming muscles, and work that never quite feels finished define the week, but so does a deeper sense of purpose.