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Hannah | journal coach
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A farm scene at sunset with a Bobcat skid-steer loader and a tractor, set against a backdrop of mountains and a red barn. The text states, "Farming is a religion. And I was raised in it."
A wide view of a rural landscape featuring green fields, distant mountains, and a red barn. The text reads, "It doesn't ask you to believe. It asks you to show up."
A farm field with a Bobcat machine, a fence, and forested mountains under a cloudy sky. The text describes growing up on 15 acres by the Connecticut River in an old 1800s farmhouse.
A man, identified as a farrier, working with a black horse secured in a wooden stock, with a red barn in the background. The text states, "My dad is a horse farmer. A farrier with New England in his bones."
A woman and a small child kneeling in a garden plot, planting. The text says, "My mom is an artist and gardener. She grew most of our food - and all of our beauty."
An indoor scene looking out a window with a screen, showing ceramic bowls on a windowsill. The text lists, "Woodstove heat. Muddy boots. Fresh eggs. Homesteaders dream."
A man operating a wood processing machine with a conveyor belt in a grassy field, surrounded by mountains. The text reads, "No sermons. No pews. Just devotion in the dirt."
A child on a swing set, facing away from the camera, with red barns and mountains in the background. The text expresses, "This week, I'm going home. To the land that raised me. To the parents who showed me- Showing up is holy work."
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Muddy boots, Sacred Roots

Farming is a religion.

It doesn’t ask you to believe.

It asks you to show up.

To rise before the sun, to move through silence, to feel the rhythm of seasons in your bones.

I grew up on 15 acres by the Connecticut River, in an old farmhouse with crooked floors and stories in the walls. My dad is a horse farmer. A farrier. He shoes horses with hands that know the rhythm of hooves and the weight of generations.

He’s a true New Englander — born and raised in Vermont — where stoicism is a language, and the land teaches you everything you need to know about devotion.

My mom is an artist and a gardener.

She grew beauty and food in equal measure. Tomatoes, squash, raspberries, wildflowers — all side by side. She painted and preserved. Hung herbs from the rafters. Baked bread with flour-dusted hands. Taught me that the earth feeds us in more ways than one.

My childhood was a homesteader’s dream.

Woodstove heat. Muddy boots. Fresh eggs.

Handmade. Nothing wasted.

No sermons.

No pews.

Just the sacred rhythm of planting, tending, harvesting.

Just a life stitched together by hands that knew how to make something from nothing.

This week, I’m going home.

To the land that raised me.

To the dirt that remembers.

To the parents who showed me that devotion doesn’t have to be loud to be holy.

You just have to show up.

Every day.

With your hands open.

🪨🌾🌀

#homesteaderkid #newenglandroots #farmhousemagic #Homestead #farming

2025/4/24 Edited to

... Read moreFarming represents more than just a livelihood; it is a connection to the land and heritage. The experience of homesteading often entails embracing simplicity and valuing hard work—the essence of which lies in the routines that connect us to nature. In New England, farming traditions are deeply rooted in history, where each season tells a story of devotion. Having a hands-on experience with the earth develops essential life skills, instills patience, and cultivates gratitude. The act of growing food and nurturing beauty simultaneously reveals the interconnectedness of life, from planting seeds to harvesting the bounty. Every muddy boot and freshly laid egg tells a story of resilience and sustainability. The memories of communal activities like gardening, foraging, or even brewing homemade bread foster a sense of belonging that resonates through generations. As we reflect on our agricultural roots, it is essential to acknowledge the spiritual dimensions that arise from tending to the earth. The commitment to show up every day can be seen as a spiritual exercise, where each act contributes to the larger tapestry of life. The lessons learned from working the land—about community, patience, and creating harmony—are invaluable and worth sharing across all platforms. Ultimately, this journey invites readers to not only appreciate where their food comes from but also to recognize the broader impact of sustainable practices, fueling a deeper love for the earth and its rhythms.