Farming Without Fences
And then the rains came, a little at first, quickening our efforts and reminding us that time is always marching forward. Then a little more, building the anticipation, while burdening each task a bit more. The soil, once cooperative, began to cling stubbornly to every root, refusing to release its hold. Where the root digging began with tractors and efficiency, the rain steadily took back control, as we lost traction in the field our tools became lighter, simpler—digging forks, shovels, and hands clawing through the muck.
Fall closes on the farm like the curtain on the last act of a play. As actors in this great performance, we feel both relief and reckoning. The season is over, yet its truths remain. What came out of the field versus what should have? What met expectations, what exceeded them, and what, despite our best efforts, fell short? These are the measurements that farming so ruthlessly hands us—a yardstick that takes no account of passion, effort, or intention.
This work has its own way of teaching, especially in the hard years. As we’ve seen in the fields, stress can produce unexpected gifts. The plants that struggled under this year’s late frosts, scorching heat, and cooler-than-normal August also found strength in their challenges, producing medicine more potent than we could have hoped. It’s long been known that stress builds resilience and strength, and in plants that can be seen in a multitude of ways such as increased constituent content, or heavy seed production, though it often means reduced yield. It’s a reminder that growth isn’t always about quantity—it’s about quality, about the essence of what endures.
This year, we labored harder than ever to produce less weight than usual, but that effort is infused into every pound, every root, every leaf. Each one carries the love, intention, and care that defines this work. While the yields may have been modest, the results are powerful, and we’re grateful to share what we believe are some of the best herbs on the planet with you.
As we reflect on this season, it’s impossible to separate the farm from the world around it. This year, the lines between cultivated and wild blurred in ways we couldn’t ignore. Local beekeepers shared that the bees, facing their worst season in memory, struggled to produce honey as colony losses climbed past 25%. Bears, desperate for food, roamed closer, raiding hives and adding a new layer to the challenges. Deer, driven from the hills by a lack of forage, turned not just to the usual Dandelions but to our Valerian—a plant they’d never touched before.
In moments like these, it’s tempting to close ourselves off, to build fences and protect what’s ours. Gratefully, farming has shown us that resilience doesn’t come from isolation—it comes from collaboration, from opening ourselves to the interconnectedness of everything around us. The farm without fences isn’t just a physical truth; it’s a way of being. It’s sharing this land with the bees, bears, deer, and soil, all of us adapting to the same forces, finding ways to survive and thrive together.
That interconnectedness extends beyond the farm, to you, our community, and the herbal industry as a whole. Together, we’re part of something larger than ourselves, a web of connections that sustains us in ways we can’t always see. The plants we grow become part of the medicines that heal, the work we do is supported by the trust you place in us, and the challenges we face mirror the struggles of herbalists, farmers, and small businesses everywhere.
As this season draws to a close, we are filled with gratitude—for the resilience of the plants, the lessons of the land, and the incredible community that shares this journey with us. Together, we’re not just weathering the challenges; we’re building something stronger, more connected, and more enduring.
Farming without fences is a reminder that none of us are in this alone. The care we pour into the land and our work is amplified by the connections we share with nature, with each other, and with you. For that, and for all the possibilities the future holds, we are deeply grateful.
