Prefer listening? Play the audio version of this edition here:
Erika was stuck in more ways than one.
Axle-deep in the rented field 5 miles from the home farm. The third time this spring. Cultivating.
Defeated, Erika slumped back in the operator chair. Soon she’d make another resigned call to Dad to come pull her out. Five hours later, she’d be back in the shop cleaning up part of the mess.
Why did it have to be like this?
Every spring, the Holmans were pressed for time. The Midwestern planting season leaves little margin for error: the frost cracks, the rains come, and then it’s the first of May.
Plowing, disking, cultivating, spraying, planting – getting all this done in time was a fool’s errand. At least, that was how Erika had felt for years. But try to convince Dad otherwise...
Erika was stuck there too. Fourth generation on the farm, and the way things were done had near sacramental significance. Why fix something that ain’t broke?
But as far as Erika saw it, it was broke.
She pulled out her phone. Speed dialed Dad.
“Stuck again up at Olmer’s.”
“Shit! ... You’ll have to wait a bit. Just filled up again and starting into my next pass.”
So Erika sat and stewed.
By the time Dad got there, Erika was good and ready for a change.
As long as I’ve been in agriculture, I’ve been interested in change. In different seasons, that interest has been met through a different niche—most recently, supporting transitions to regenerative farming practices in potato production.
At first, I thought making change was technical: getting the right seed blend, timing and placing fertility correctly, mastering the proper sequence of field operations, and so on. The farmers I met who were making regenerative ag work had figured this all out. I began building a library of recipes, collecting and sharing them as I traveled and met other farmers.
I soon learned that recipes alone wouldn’t cut it. Each farm is unique. There’s no one-size-fits-all. The farmers who are making regen work came by it over time. I then thought that making change was gradual: each trial, each harvest, each year, inching closer and closer towards optimization. I started cataloguing the approaches to on-farm experimentation farmers used to optimize their operations, designing programs built around those same processes.
Even that proved to be only part of what allowed certain farmers to be successful. I began seeing another trend that appeared behind the scenes. It was a posture, a stance. The farmers I saw having success were curious. I realized that change was personal. Curiosity is deeply tied to our well-being, and the farmers who were showing up to the farm well were more likely to approach challenges curiously—and therefore more likely to be successful making change.
Technical. Gradual. Personal. In my experience, most people in ag focus on the first; some people champion the second; and a minority are willing to touch the third.
The problem is, if you’re trying to make a change on your farm and you’re not the only one farming, you’re more likely to get stuck persuading so-and-so (like Erika from the opening story) long before you get to discussing techniques.
Whether our efforts to make change on the farm succeed or fail depends, first and foremost, on how we show up and how we respond to how others show up.
I haven’t come across too many people in ag who address this—let alone write about it. So that’s what I’m working on now.
I’ve been writing a guidebook about making change, navigating the chaos, and future-proofing the farm. I’m calling it, Farming Curious.
I’m writing the book for medium to large farms in North America—or, at least, farms where there’s more than one person farming. If that’s you and you’re either stuck, struggling, or simply wanting to make change more effectively, this book is for you!
That being said, while I’m writing for a specific audience, I believe this topic will still be relevant to many others. Every change is unique, and, in another sense, every change is the same. So whether you’re an independent crop advisor, an extension agent, working for a food processor, or just someone with an appreciation for agriculture, I think you’ll find something valuable in these pages also.
In the book, I explore these three aspects of change-making on the farm—personal, technical, and gradual—covering topics that range from disarming defensiveness, to discovering your case for change, to enjoying change, and creating a change-positive culture on your farm.
My newsletter is a way for me to share some of these ideas with you before the book comes out, and for you to engage with me on these topics! Yes, I want to hear from you! Let me know what stood out to you, what questions you still have, and especially what you disagree with. I know a thing or two about making change, but there’s always more to learn. I believe us in the farming community can continue to get better by sharpening each other, so bring it!
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My hope is that, between the stories, ideas, and tools, that this book will be super practical! And for all of you who’d prefer to listen to something in the tractor, I plan to release it in audiobook form as well.
You probably know someone who could use this. Please share! There’s lots of change happening in the ag industry these days, and so the more people this can help, the better.
Until next time, keep curious friends.