Sometimes it feels like being a farmer means juggling a loose coalescence of unfinished projects. I’ve been thinking lately (you know, in my spare time about where this farm is heading, what it will look like in 15 or 50 years. Mostly, I figure it will be like I’ve copy-pasted all of our collective ambitions onto a fictitious landscape. I suspect that the evolution of the farm will be obvious:  sustainability, animal and plant husbandry woven into our various activities, forest gardens and all. But perhaps most importantly will be the evolution of our selves, our friends, our families, and all the people we connect with about the farm and about farming in general. What a place this will be – to see the visual changes take place, and to see people change along.

Still, I’ll bet my to-do list 50 years from now will still have some of the stuff from this week. Go figure.

JB

PS: I forgot about the title. I was on a plane last year, in my business-casual attire (read: jeans and a straw hat), chatting with the lady next to me, from Toronto. When I mentioned I was a farmer, she exclaimed: “Wow, a real one? I’ve never met a farmer before!”, prodding my arm to make sure it was real. I got a good chuckle out of that one.