September, grief and letting go.
September has always been my favorite month of the year, and it is a glorious time here in Maine. I relish the warm days with cool evenings, dry air and lack of mosquitoes. I love the apples, the crunch of leaves and the scent of the earth beginning its slow descent into darkness. And, despite all the magic, fall brings a keen sense of the passage of time. Another year’s cycle coming to a close…children going back to school and anticipation of all the preparation required before the ground freezes. This year feels heavier than past Septembers, for many reasons, and I am struggling to process the grief that arises on a daily basis. I have zero regrets about homeschooling my children, as it meant I was witness to every stage of their growth, every milestone, every hurdle. And, it also means that their absence, particularly that of the eldest, as he enters his first year of college, is felt even more sharply. This time last year was when my marriage crumbled, and I was forced to reckon with another round of feelings of inadequacy and abandonment as he created a relationship with a different person, again. This past year has been an excavation of myself, my values, my ideals, my self worth, my mistakes, beliefs, inherited patterns and ownership of behaviors and choices.
Are things okay? Yes. But we can feel both gratitude and grief at the same time, and there is no timeline for healing. I can be crying and full of despair at the same moment I love my life and give thanks for all that I have.
Letting go has been the theme of life lately. When I started this farm, I was deep in the throes of mothering, homeschooling and trying to carve out something that was mine. The children were very much a part of that journey. Every aspect of farm life involved them, and it was a gift I don’t for one second take for granted. The sheep taught us birth and death and beauty and the cycles of life. My daughter in particular was my right-hand woman; accompanying me on every delivery and midnight barn check. They learned how to spin and knit, and the hard work of shoveling stalls and wrangling stray lambs. We dyed with materials grown and foraged on our many walks and adventures, and learned heartbreak and saying goodbye when illness struck a member of the flock.
Our garden was enormous, and fed us all for much of the year. It was always a little wild and chaotic, and both children would wander through the rows daily, eating their way through each patch of kale, tomatoes, basil, lettuce, peas, beans, cabbage, potatoes, corn, peppers and more. It was special…magical, even.
And then, they grew. And the innocence of childhood gave way to friends and sports and events…also beautiful in their own way. And now, it’s me and my daughter at home, and many nights it’s just me. And it’s okay. The quiet is lovely most times, but September is when I am reminded of all those memories. My evening walk in the woods is no longer accompanied by a little person, or even a big person. Just me, and the dogs. And again, it’s okay. But, I am facing changes and choices that all seem to arrive at one time. How do I keep the farm going in the most sustainable way possible for my health and sanity? I worked so hard to create my identity with high quality local farm yarn, raising livestock in a way that benefitted both land and people, and dyeing with colors that do not harm the earth or our bodies.
And yet, here I am. A single female farmer, aging and not reasonably capable of making a true and comfortable living from that identity alone.
I recently listened to a podcast episode (“We Can Do Hard Things” - episode from Sept. 1st entitled The Surprising Science of Heartbreak) where the hosts, Glennon Doyle, Abby Wambach and Amanda Doyle, interview science journalist Florence Williams about the impact of heartbreak on our brains, bodies and nervous system. The thing that had the greatest impact on the healing process when we are so full of grief and despair and heartbreak? Beauty. Beauty and awe. If you have the opportunity, please listen to it…they can explain in much more coherent language than I.
But, in my own experience, I feel and know this to be true. The things that have been the greatest comfort throughout this past year, and during the first heartbreak of infidelity 7 years ago, have been a connection to beauty and what is real. The noticing of sunlight through leaves, the colors of a perfect dahlia, the way the grass waves in the breeze, and an incredible sunset.
I want my life to be about beauty. I want to be able to bring that to people, and spend my days in it. Flowers do that for me. And the cultivating of flowers, and a garden, do that for me. I know that spending my days outside, in all the weather and in all conditions, brings me face to face with beauty in its truest form. In order to continue living this life that I love so much, I must make some difficult decisions.
I will hopefully always have sheep, but not as many. I will not be lambing this year, and perhaps not next year either. Who knows? The girls that will be staying will be the older ones; the ones who have given their bodies, their fiber and their gentle presence for years. For now, I need to know that I can keep farming, and that means things will look a little different. It’s scary, and so very, very sad for me, to let go of a part of myself that I worked my tail off for. But, I know that in order to keep farming, I have to shift to a model that provides a more consistent income and is (slightly) easier to manage on my own.
Flower Bar Pop-Up!
Hey local folks! I’m doing this super fun event at Reverie Coffee Shop in Brunwick, Maine! Swing by and grab a pre-made bouquet or make your own!!
2026 Farm Goals
While 2025 brought many challenges and changes, there was also so much beauty, and so much to celebrate. I just looked back over my farm goals for last year, thinking I’d have to carry most of them over to this year, and to my delight, there were only two that didn’t come to fruition. And that’s okay! I’ve moved them to this year’s goals, and added a few new ones.
It’s so easy to look back and feel like we didn’t accomplish anything, especially on a farm. The work is never done. But we do make progress, and seeing that those things in writing has made all the difference. I don’t believe in new years resolutions, but I do believe in manifestations. And I believe that what we put out into the universe, and keep feeding with our thoughts, positive affirmations and work, comes to us.
So, here are my 2026 farm goals and manifestations. Some are big, and there are a few I didn’t share because they feel too big or too private to share just yet.
Weekly Newsletter - I’ve been better about this in the past year, but things get crazy in the summer!
Create better systems for tracking farm financials
Improve our perennial areas - these are a bit overgrown and need some attention!
Create a solid plan for successive plantings - I created one last year, but by June I had totally ignored it. This means simultaneously getting better about sticking to a schedule I can adhere to during the week.
Healthy meals - some days are so busy I don’t even get to lunch, and when I do, it’s often grabbing what’s available. Sometimes it’s healthy, sometimes it’s just calories. Having things prepared for the week ahead is a priority!
The big ticket manifestation items:
A high tunnel - I’ve been making due with small caterpillar tunnels for years, and I’m so ready to go bigger!
A greenhouse - I have outgrown the grow lights and heat mats filling my basement, and the greenhouse plastic I have covering a cattle panel that I’ve used for years has been duct taped and patched beyond recognition. The bottom finally rotten out this year, and I need a safe, dry, warm space that also keep the cats out.
A deck. This is slightly frivolous in my mind, but when I envision myself at the end of every day, it’s on a deck. A necessity? No. But would it make me happy? Yes. Yes. Yes.
Well, there they are! What are your manifestations and goals for 2026? I am so excited to leave 2025 behind and see what the future holds!
Where I've been.
So many of you are not only loyal customers, but dear friends; developed over the years of meeting at fiber shows, farmer’s market, social media, and chance. Normally, I wouldn’t share such personal things here on the blog, but I think I owe to you. So, the short of it is, my husband and I have separated. The details are ours alone, but sharing with friends has been an unexpectedly cathartic way of my process of moving forward. So many of you have experienced something similar, and the grief of letting go of twenty years together has been much softened by the comfort of other women, their wisdom, their stories, and their selfless offers of help, hugs, kind words and love.
My sincerest hope is that my business and the farm will continue as always. October has brought many opportunities for growth, inward reflection, prioritizing, and connection with friends…all of which have been imperative to my journey on this path. Mostly, my gratitude overflows…for my children, my family, my friends, the farm, and for YOU. Without your support, the heaviness of each step forward would have been that much harder to bear.
So, thank you. For all you do, and all your love and all your kindness and all your support. Here’s to more beauty, more sharing and more friendship.
Flowers for the Fourth!
Come join us at our farm stand this Thursday, July 3rd from 10-2 for a hosted make-your-own bouquet event! We’ll have lots of fresh bloom from the farm for you to choose from, and we’ll help you to create a stunning arrangement for your table, BBQ or gathering!
We’ll also have maple syrup, duck eggs, baked goods, veggies, yarn and more! We hope to see you there!
