That Christmas I was Quite a Scrooge . . .

One of my goals for the upcoming year is to spend more time writing.  For me, writing is my creative outlet and how I process things.  I was hopeful to return to my blog with inspiring stories of noble animals who changed lives through the beauty of agriculture . . . But as I often joke with my friends, the Harrison Farm version of social media gold is stories of cute animals combined with me doing something embarrassing or awkward. Since the last few days have provided plenty of those moments, here is my sincere written effort to apologize to my wonderful friends for being such a Scrooge this Christmas . . .

The week leading up to Christmas looked to be very full of social activities with amazing friends and lots of farmwork prior to my team exiting for a Christmas break.  I delivered Christmas cookies to many friends, had wonderful holiday gatherings with friends & professional associates, knocked out numerous business meetings before the holiday, and managed a lot of unexpected farm issues.  Continuing the 2018 trend of bizarre health ailments, Marissa & I processed a lamb whose kidney stones caused his bladder to rupture last Thursday.  Even though it was Marissa’s final day at the farm before she traveled home — and it was scheduled to be my day to get the house ready for Christmas — we always have to respond whenever there is an animal with health issues.

Last Friday, I worked very hard all day to have the farm in order and everything ready for our final Holiday Open Farm of the season.  I had a late dinner scheduled that night with one of my favorite people, and I diligently hustled to get my work wrapped so I could enjoy catching up with my friend.  We had a great dinner, and I had such a nice evening, but by the time I departed I was feeling a bit off.  I blamed it on being super tired, but while driving home I felt very weird.  I thought I just needed to get some rest, and blamed it on maybe eating something wrong, or possibly too much wine with dinner.  I was sure I would be fine after some good sleep.

Unfortunately, I awoke the next morning in a terrible state, and soon had to admit that I was experiencing something much more serious than a simple upset stomach.  I was completely knocked out by a brutal stomach flu.  Thanks to the early lessons of Virgil Harrison, I am usually quite resilient when it comes to working through pain & illness: “You are going to feel bad anyway, so you might as well get something done, and the fresh air will do you good.”  I have done chores through migraines, illness, and injuries — but this flu had me nearly comatose for 36 hours.  I was extraordinarily fortunate on Saturday for three amazing people: my friend Kelley was coming out to get eggs and immediately responded with her phenomenal chicken soup when she learned I was sick, my friend Amanda went on a run for emergency 7Up and then ended up managing several farm items, and my intern Nathan stepped up to handle animal care for me.  

On Sunday, I endeavored to handle the chores.  I was exhausted and was grateful that Aubry made sure the animals all had water, during her stop to take care of the Alpacas.  I cancelled all my commitments that day, and since I had no energy it took me most of the day to feed the animals.  On Monday, I realized I was still weak from living on broth, 7Up, and tea.  It again took me most of the day to get the chores done, and I was sad to realize I would not be able to join my friends that night for Christmas Eve Mass and then dinner.  

As I slogged through the mud of the farm that day, I was extremely tired and grumpy.  Nathan had helped a ewe who had twins on Saturday, and unfortunately one of the babies was not doing well on Sunday.  I brought it in the house to warm it, and tried over and over to feed it.  Sadly, the lamb did not make it, so I buried the baby right before dark on Monday.  I knew that once I wrapped the chores and I was back in the house that night, I would need to reach out to my farm team to cancel our Boxing Day brunch.  I love hosting my former & current interns, and I was quite vexed that this illness had taken so much out of me that I had to cancel all my Christmas social events.    Trying to take it easy on myself, I had used my SUV to transport a lot of the feed.  I was so grateful to get the chores done, and was nearly ready to head in to the house.  As I shut the back door of the SUV, the stabilizing arm that holds the door broke, pierced the rear window, and it shattered all over me.  I was a rather pathetic picture in my ancient Carhartt overalls, exhausted beyond measure, looking at the shards of glass all around me, and thinking “Well . . . “

I knew I could not do anything to address the broken window that night, so I parked the vehicle.  Still grumpy over missing Christmas Eve with my dear friends, I decided to at least make it a productive night.  I was moving slow, but there was a mountain of laundry to wash.  I started a load . . . And soon realized something was wrong with the washing machine as water was spewing all over the floor.  At that point I decided I was done with Christmas Eve, and was going to bed.  

I am grateful to say that I was able to attend Mass on Christmas morning, and it made me incredibly happy to hear from many friends via text that day.  After my Christmas feast of chicken broth & 7Up, I gathered up the gumption to go feed the animals in my own stable.  Plans for a relaxed afternoon of doing the chores at my own pace were quickly changed when I realized that Hera the Alpaca was very sick.  As much as I hated to interrupt the Christmas of my favorite alpaca farmers, I knew Aubry & Aaron needed to come see Hera.  Thankfully, we were able to discuss how to provide Hera with care — and she inadvertently made it possible for me to get to see Aubry & Aaron on Christmas Day!

I am very grateful that today — Boxing Day — I am finally feeling like myself again, and have advanced to a diet of chicken noodle soup & Christmas cookies.  I received two very meaningful gifts today.  One is a beautiful wooden bowl made by Amanda’s brother from the old Walnut tree at the barn that was taken down last year.  That was the tree in which my mother had her swing as a little girl, and in which I also had a swing as a child.  The second gift touched my heart beyond measure: Aubry & Aaron had an original picture made of the big red barn, with representations of the three of us in the form of a tractor, an alpaca, and a goat.  I am so fortunate to have friends who are family to me.  It is a remarkable gift to have friends who understand you, and still like you!

Being a single farmer is never easy, being single over the holidays is usually trying, being single when one is sick is miserable . . . And all three at once just about did me in this week.  I am full of appreciation for the friends who texted me to check on my health, stopped by to look after me & cheer me, and made sure the animals carried on with their shenanigans during my recovery.  Sometimes the stories of the farm are neither uplifting nor inspiring; sometimes the achievement is just that the animals & I are still carrying on.  Being so painfully sick over Christmas reminded me keenly how fortunate I am to have such fantastic people supporting me & the farm.  I am very, very blessed!

First Thursdays at Harrison Farm

Shock is the usual response whenever I share with non-farmers the statistic that suicide rates for farmers are rivaled only by suicide rates for the military.  I am fortunate to get to visit with a lot of people who come to Harrison Farm, and from time to time I share that information to give perspective on the struggles of the farm community.  Inevitably, those outside of agriculture have absolutely no idea about the current mental health crisis within the farm community.  As a farmer and as someone who has struggled with depression, I am heartbroken to see the struggles that are affecting my fellow farmers.

The factors that play into this mental health crisis are complex.  Since 2013, farm income has continued to drop.  According to USDA, net farm income has dropped 52% since that year.  Imagine if your pay continually dropped over the last five years, and you were trying to live on 48% of what you made in 2013.  This creates economic uncertainty for farmers & their families.  Markets fluctuate based on consumer choice, and dairy farming is a perfect example of how this can negatively spiral.  American consumers are drinking less milk, so milk processors need less — which means families that are heavily invested in their farm, their animals, and their equipment can suddenly receive a notice that their milk will no longer be bought.  Imagine have a family to feed, a hundred cows to feed, a job that is demanding as it is, and then finding out you have nowhere to send your product.  Now add in the current “trade wars” that are resulting in tariffs on farm products.   If your dairy was already facing a decrease in profit, but you planted soybeans to help weather the economic storm, you might have thought you could struggle through.  In the last couple months, due to international trade issues, the market on soybeans has absolutely collapsed.  This is impacting me personally, as I rely on our acres of crops to pay the annual tax bill.  Taxes are rather expensive in an urban county, even as a farm. I was fairly confident about our ability to pay the next tax bill by selling soybeans this fall.  Now, I am hoarding every penny I can as I worry about the thousands of dollars that will be due come January.  

Beyond these economic factors, I believe isolation is one the key issues that we face as farmers.  Isolation can come in many forms.  Farms are usually located in rural areas.  Farmers by nature are independent individuals who come from a culture that prizes resourcefulness & strength.  It can be very isolating to bear the burden solo of making the appropriate decisions for every living being on a farm, while carrying the responsibility of ensuring finances are strong, in an area far from many urban resources, and in a community that esteems individual strength.  Isolation comes in many forms.  You can be surrounded by other people, and still feel the isolation from weight of the burdens that sit solely on you.  For me, isolation can be very physical as a single person who runs a farm solo.

As the mental health crisis has affected agriculture, Aubry & I have discussed what we can do to help this situation.  With her studies in public health, Aubry is keenly aware of how depression & suicide can impact a community.  The topic touches me personally, as I have had my own battles with depression & suicidal tendencies.  I was incredibly fortunate to have a good support network when I was grappling with suicide, but not everyone does.  As Aubry & I analyzed what we could offer, the resounding theme was the importance of community.  It means a great deal to me that so many people who visit the farm continue to be connected to it, and I perceive that they value the community that we are trying to build around the farm.  Thus, we decided to launch a monthly community dinner.

In July, we invited many of our friends to join us for a casual potluck dinner as we shared our ideas.  We were delighted by the positive feedback, and so we are launching our First Thursday series of community dinners.  This is a casual, low-key event so guests can connect and learn.  No RSVP is necessary, just show up with a dish to share.  Every month we will ask someone who has a unique story to share it with the group, and then engage in conversation.  I always find speakers to be the most interesting after they leave the podium, when they directly engage in conversations.  This is designed to be a relaxed situation where speakers are interacting with attendees.

The schedule for First Thursday: 

6:00-6:30 arrival at the Farm & self-serve goat snuggles

6:30-7:00 potluck dinner — bring a dish to share & BYOB

7:00-7:30 our speaker shares their story & takes questions

If you are not yet departed by 8:00pm, you will be pressed into labor for night chores

Aubry & I hope that this event will be an opportunity for guests to meet other amazing individuals, and walk away having gained a new perspective from someone else’s story.  We are hopeful that by building connections & community, that we can nurture a forum where people feel welcome & valued.  Our farm mission is to connect people with animals and farming, but my vision is to create a community where every human & animal life is valued.  I want each person who comes to the farm to feel welcome and to feel appreciated, and I am optimistic that this will nurture the mental well-being of those who are a part of the farm.  I recognize just how fortunate I was to have good people around me during my own mental health struggles, and so I want the farm to be  a place where others find comfort & support.  

I hope you can join us for First Thursday!