There is an old saying, "No matter where you go, there you are." 2018 was no exception. And so right on schedule, here we are.

Sometimes 2018 felt like we were living in the political dark ages [we were], whilst there were times where it felt we were on the verge of a great awakening. And yet there is so much to do this year to transcend the hatred and discontent in this world. There are so many that work hard to simply rise above the hatred and discontent that they often have little energy left for the good stuff. And yet we need to focus on the good stuff. Life is about intentions and concentration on the greater good. Life is what you make of it.
 
That said, last year was perhaps the hardest professional year of my life. Part of this feeling could just be the unavoidable act of getting older, but I also believe it is a result of just keeping my head above water some days. One of the things I let slip by the wayside was my writing, something that for at least 25 years has fueled my inspirations by providing me an outlet for my thoughts, ideas, and feelings. I stopped writing in part because I was so busy with work, but primarily because I didn’t know what I wanted to say. There is only so much practical horticultural knowledge anyone can regurgitate before you are simply recycling material from year to year. I desired to breathe new life into old – but important – topics, but just wasn’t sure where to start. The past six months has shed new light on where I need to focus my intentions and energy in the new year. 
 
This past year I worked with a number of farms that offered unique perspectives into the work we have before us in healing the planet. And boy do we have a lot of work to do! One farm that had been conventionally managed for decades was put on a fast-track, cold turkey transition to holistic management. Everything looked great until the wheels came off in August. In looking back, I realize we needed a longer transitional period – too much too soon, so to speak. Another farm had been struggling for years with a strict holistic approach (too many diseases and trees were dying), so we had to reintroduce some allopathic remedies just get it back to a state of “healthy.” There was yet another where we hit the restart button because it was so out of balance. In both of these cases, we did the right thing, but I was still saddened to have turned back the clock. On the bright side, a couple of other orchards didn’t even get the full menu of recommended sprays and yet turned out just fine – in one case better than fine.
 
Collectively these situations begged me to contemplate what I was missing. What vital morsel of information or critical practice had I failed to consider? Pruning? Fertility? Pest Management? Or something more esoteric and unseen? Was it the Site itself, abused and broken – or healthy and vibrant? How do you even assess the energetics of a farm or orchard beyond what you can see and feel? Maybe benign neglect was the answer – let the system manage itself. I have more questions than answers right now, but a least there is some clarity in terms of the issues we face. 
 
And it is here where my thoughts have lingered over the last few months. In modern farming we have become wonderful manipulators of things we can see and touch, but pretty pathetic at the things we can’t. And, generally speaking, we fail to consider the connection between the two. The spirit and energy of the land are intricately and inextricably tied to the practical, day-to-day aspects of farming and the ultimate successes we achieve. Farmers, it appears, are merely conduits between the seen and unseen, nothing more. 
 
This spirit, this connection, has endless meanings to our successes not just as farmers but as a species and is the reason I’ve decided to get back to writing and [hopefully] bring new meaning to some basic horticultural knowledge, and then some, for myself if nothing more. I plan to publish at least weekly, though depending on the time of year and my creative energies, you could see more from me. At times it may be practical and applicable to the growing season, while at others it will be deeply contemplative. I don’t know what tomorrow holds, but I do know that today is a new day, full of hope and opportunity for the future. So, tread lightly and leave only footprints – and grow good food, too! Happy New Year.