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Field Walk… A farmer I knew had this
phrase framed on his office wall: "Live like you'll die tomorrow… Farm like you'll live forever." Too often, we're pressured into the opposite path. We live as if we'll be young forever,
and we farm (or do any other work) as if our very lives hinged on the success of every single action. We fight for immediate reward and react to ugly reality with impatience and ingratitude.
We want what we want right now, and we'll take it any way or any how. Farmers face multifaceted pressures to get the biggest harvests right NOW! A farmer is judged only by the fruits
(and roots and leaves, etc.) of his labors, and rarely by the long-hidden slow processes of land health. The agri-chemical industry thrives on the fears of this kind of judgment. "Get big or get out!"
they say. Maximize production right now using a host of plant growth promoting fertilizers (aka, steroids) and show the world that you're a fine farmer. This is a dangerous notion.
Good farming thrives on hopes, not fears.
Good farming believes in forever, in the notion that you're a good farmer if your land supports a thriving variety of life 10, 100, or 1,000 years from now. Success comes in the slow march of time and care.
Easier said than done. Each day, and each week, I'm working to get the harvest out, to meet the challenges of changing conditions, and to grow the food you'll enjoy right now.
At the same time, however, I'm already preparing the land for next year, and beyond. I have to, even at the possible cost of lower production in the short run. In the coming weeks I'll tell you, as best I can, more about what this means, what I've learned so far as your new farmer, and how the farm is shaping up for the forever before us.
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