A Brief Introduction

Introductions and I do not have the greatest track record. In person, I get lost in formalities and rules and expectations and trying to be friendly; all while finding out later people who rapidly were my closest friends, initially thought I hated them (yes, that was intentionally plural). And of written introductions? So much gets lost or waylaid in these pixels. Do I focus on the work I do, or who I am as a person? Considering I am eventually making this a purchasable subscription, then not only does an intro need the best of these, it needs to also be as marketable and sales worthy as possible, while maintaining a level of personalism and careful professionalism. Charming and convincing.

I am a farmer. I am not the greatest at either of those things. 

I am a farmer who writes. And who also frequently paints. It’s just as likely to be ink as a piece of dirt as a smear of paint under my fingernails. 

There’s no fun or cutesy way to balance the salt-of-the-earth level headedness of someone who routinely has to make decisions such as when to give up on an aphid infested crop and mow it all down before any sort of harvest, with someone who dreams up systems of magic and fantastical beings with pen and paper. 

I am mostly tired, and grumpy. Straightforward and sometimes lacking a filter. Friends routinely don’t believe the stories I tell them about myself, but here I am. You can’t let it sting too much. At least I can never justify being boring to myself. 

Even in stillness, I work. There should be an on/off switch somewhere in that fatty, electrified gray matter we all have in those lovely brain boxes we have. I don’t think mine works any more. 

I don’t love talking about anxiety and over-thinking, but I love to write about farming and creativity, and I exist to make the world more lovely, so here we are- writing about the things I am anxious about. I don’t know how to relax. So I “relax” through creative pursuits.  

Over the next year not only will I be ruminating on my now rapidly approaching ten years of farming, but sharing diverse exploratory projects from poetry to stories, to graphic novels to solo player table-top role-playing games. My mind is an overactive little compost pile spilling with earthworms and metallic dung beetles and pocket gopher nuggets of ideas good and bad (either way both acted on in the most holy name of Fun).

If some of this sounds good to you, or intriguing to you, or maybe most boringly entertaining to you, sign up, follow along. If not, farewell traveler, but keep an eye out for the fantastic new kind of light house I’m building here in my small but well and lovingly adorned corner of the internet. 

Disco inferno, loves.