SEPTEMBER 18, 2026

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September Surrender

And just like that... September is here. The leaves of the Black Walnut Trees are teasing us with their tinted tips, the apples continue blushing and we are resisting feeling like summer is over.

We're still harvesting tomatoes, kale, and dahlia - who all seem to revel in the cooler nights and shorter days. We're starting to convert an existing shed on the property into the chicken's cold-season coop. We're drying herbs and flowers for spices, teas and winter crafts. We're drowning in eggs.

While technology keeps yelling at us to hurry up and do more, we're trying something different: walks with the dog, morning coffees together, and reading on the porch.

Very little of it is optimized. That's sort of the point.

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Arriving

We’re on the threshold of the season.

It’s not really Summer, but it’s not quite Fall.

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I remember being a kid and feeling similar.

Knowing that a point of entering, a beginning, was near.

I was so excited to get older, because I knew that…

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When I turned 5, I would start school at Parkview Elementary, where my older brothers and cousins were.

And when I turned 6, my parents would let me ride my purple bicycle with the white handlebar basket to the end of the block by myself.

And when I turned 8, I’d be allowed to have my first sleepover with my best friend, Jessica Szabo, at her house on Hill Street.

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I was so excited for the next thing, and the thing after that.

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All I wanted was the freedom.

And the power.

And the independence that came with it.

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I’ve spent a good portion of my life reaching for the next thing.

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Trying to accomplish.

Trying to do something important.

Trying to arrive.

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I’ve always imagined that leaving one version of myself for the next would feel like arriving.

…It hasn’t.

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It feels like being on the threshold.

Like becoming a person who used to do something else.

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I say I’m a farmer then immediately feel the need to explain myself.

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I thought I would arrive with some clarity,

Some grand pronouncement.

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But maybe this is what I have been reaching for all along -

Not a more important, powerful, independent life -

A more present one.

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A life where I can hand a neighbor a dozen eggs and know something about his family.

Where there is enough room for a dog to take a nap in the dirt.

For a spontaneous phone call with my Dad about the Yankees' chances going into the post season.

For a poem.

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The kale does not care about my five-year plan.

Neither does the first frost.

Neither does a chicken.

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I still make lists.

I still worry about money.

I still compare myself to people on the internet.

I still have days when I wonder whether we have made a terrible mistake.

I still want things.

I still want to do good work.

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But I don't think I need to wait for all of that to be resolved before I am allowed to enjoy being here.

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I used to think a threshold was something to cross.

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The next birthday.

The next bike ride.

The next season.

The next version of myself.

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I thought the point was to get through it, to arrive somewhere new.

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Maybe this one isn't.

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Summer is almost over.

Fall is almost here.

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There is nowhere else I need to be.

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Performance Review

Employee: Barred Rock
​Role: Egg Production Specialist
​Tenure: Recently promoted from Chick to Laying Hen

Strengths: Confident, curious, and contributes positively to overall farm morale.

Areas for Improvement: Occasionally loud. Could lay more eggs. Could also stop laying in the gomphrena.

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...but really if you have any egg recipes, please do send them our way.

Happy fried egg Friday,

Ris & Drew

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That's it for now yall - cheers.