2025 was our first year at the new farm. It will forever be known as “the year of the wheelbarrow.” Topsoil, compost, and wood chips were moved on repeat as we built new beds, mulched pathways, and established the foundation of this space. We learned so much—about our seasons, our true last frost date, and how to deter gophers from tunneling straight into our carefully prepared beds. Honestly, that last win alone felt worthy of a celebration.
By the end of the season, we were farming 15 rows, each 36–40 feet long, along with one high tunnel, and we’ve already applied for a second through the NRCS. The tunnel proved invaluable, protecting our dahlias from wind, hail, and early frosts, and extending our growing season by more than a month on both ends. It was a game-changer.
This year also clarified what earns a place here moving forward. Some crops—though beautiful—had harvest windows that were too short or bloomed too late to be practical. Looking ahead to 2026, we’re growing more early-season snapdragons, expanding our perennials, and increasing plantings of peonies, hydrangeas, and baptisia. We’ve also tucked fancy daffodils into every nook and cranny we could find.
There were many moments this season when I felt deeply grateful knowing certain jobs would never need to be done again. Pounding T-posts for fencing, wrestling hardware cloth into place to keep out small rodents, and carving out countless new beds—all gifts to my future self. And she is very thankful.
Our work with this land continues. The clay-heavy, compacted soil is improving steadily with the ongoing addition of vermicompost and organic matter. Healthy soil takes time, and we’re in it for the long haul. Thank you for being here and supporting our small farm, we truly appreciate you.
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