Chris Jackson

At the farmer’s market on Saturday morning a question often expressed is, “are you an organic farm?” It’s encouraging and admirable that the standards by which food is grown is at least as important as the sticker price, and that maybe more and more folks are becoming increasingly educated on conventional Ag’s toxic side effects. We are all slowly learning…

This morning the farm looked especially inviting, like a photographed far off place meant to attract the soul seeking solace. A diffused, soft light blanketed everything and sound limited itself to irregular chimes of chirps, scurries, clucks, and mind-easing wild movements. These rural recordings of nature tend to ease us into the work day before the obnoxious two cycle engines…

It feels good to be outside alongside Mother Nature as she greens, casually, lovingly transforming from those calloused, wobbly, winter-time ways into something indescribably perfect. April in Pine Mountain makes us proud to belong to a place so gracious in spring. The season matures slowly affording us the time to take a deep, emerging breath at the beginning and then…

The consummation of farming year number six arrived abruptly, almost automatic like the next breath. The ease of external inhalation and exhalation mask a clandestine, internal arrangement intimately crafted and forever dependent on so many parts cooperating. Much like the farm days of early winter, our working hours unravel effortlessly, unrevealing of the exhaustion and feverish efficiency demanded of warmer…