Emptying the Vessel: Big Changes for 2026
Besides feeling the first hints of autumn, there's a big shift that’s been unfolding here at Crown Hill Farm. After much thought... and a lot of listening—both to myself and to the land—I’ve decided that in 2026, I will not be offering a CSA or hosting farm-to-table Chef dinners. In fact, I will not be growing much of anything in the gardens next year.
Trust me, this was not an easy decision or one I take lightly. The gatherings and sharing of food and community, have been at the very heart of what I’ve built here. I care about them deeply. But as I’ve slowed down and really felt into where things stand, what’s become clear is this: it’s time to turn inward towards the foundational roots.
Tending the Foundations of the Land
When I walk through the gardens right now, I see how much they’ve given over the years. The raised beds, built back in 2017, are now showing their age—wood rotting away in places, screws pulling loose, boards bowing and toppling. Even the in-ground beds, which I’ve compost and mulched, still hold the challenges of being clay, rocky soil-- compacted and tired.
What all the gardens need now is not more pushing, but rather care. Rejuvenation, “to give new energy or vigor,” and that’s exactly the invitation this land is offering me. This feels especially meaningful because 2026 marks my tenth season on this land—a full decade at Crown Hill. It’s the perfect moment to tend deeply to the roots, so the next decade has a solid, fertile foundation from which to grow.
Tending the Foundations of Myself
It isn’t only the garden beds that need this inward focus—I do, too. Over the past few years, the farm expanded along with immense help: 5 or 6 CSA members became 30–40, one or two dinners became 6 or 7, all while the sheep, poultry, dye gardens, house and property itself need steady attention. I said “yes” to all of it because I love all of it and because I had had some consistent help. But love alone isn’t enough to sustain at that pace as a solo farmer with less consistency of helpers. Never mind running a business, a podcast, and tending to relationships with friends and family as well.
What I’ve begun to notice is that everything gets just a little bit of me, but nothing gets the fullness of my presence. And that doesn’t feel right. I want each part of this farm—the plants, the animals, the meals we share, even the quiet beauty of the land itself—to be tended with the depth of care and attention it deserves.
So for me, the coming year is about stepping back to see what wants to grow next. It’s about making space, creating room to listen, and letting clarity emerge about what belongs in the next chapter. I think of this as emptying the vessel - welcoming emptiness as the fertile ground for spiritual insight and authentic being from which I can be intentionally choiceful in what I put back in. Funny, I just replaced the kitchen refrigerator and went through the same process: emptying out the old fridge and freezer then being extremely intentful on what gets kept into the new one. Part of sustainability, to me, isn’t just how I grow food—it’s whether I can keep going, with joy, with energy and with vision.
An Ongoing Conversation
I promise, this turning inward isn’t an ending. It’s part of a longer rhythm—between outward sharing and inward tending, between expansion and renewal. As I step into my tenth year in this special place, I’m carrying both gratitude for the first decade and curiosity for what the next will bring. I came here as a completely different woman, with a different dream and desires than who I am right now. I don’t yet know the exact shape of the future, and that feels both tender and exciting.
What I do know is that I’ll keep sharing the story with you—through my emails, through photos and posts on social media, this blog, through the small reflections and big harvests alike. I hope you’ll stay with me, walking alongside as we listen, tend, and dream this next chapter.
What This Means
So while you won’t see CSA shares or long tables under the trees in 2026, you will still see life here. The garlic and shallots will still be in the ground (more than I've planted in the past!) There will be my annual Seedling Sale in May-- how could I NOT start seeds in my delightful greenhouse?! . I’ll be working with the sheep and preparing for the yarns they’ll give us in 2026 and beyond, including new naturally dyed yarns I’m excited to share. And of course, the Women in Food Festival will continue in June 2026 to bring us together in celebration of the diversity of women in our food community.
Thank you for being here, for supporting not only the food and fiber that comes from this land, but also the cycles of care that make it possible.