Every New Year, we’re surrounded by calls to make ourselves different in some way. Exercise more, journal every day, detach from social media.
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This is our last email of the year. Our last of the decade - though since Snuck isn’t a decade old, that feels a little strange to say. (Who can say what we’ll look like when 2030 rolls around!) A lot has happened this year, most of it good.
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When people hear that I’m a farmer, they have a certain set of expectations. We all know what the prototypical farm looks like: long, straight rows of crops, maybe a few animals, a red barn, a silo. We have a picture in our minds of what we’ll see.
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We choose our directions for reasons that may not always be apparent. Sometimes we choose them because we feel called one way or another. Sometimes we choose them because we’re trying to be the person someone else wants us to be.
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As Christmas approaches, it’s time to get those gifts checked off our list. I know the feeling of being torn as you look at each name. I always want to get something personal, something that’s not just a gift for gift’s sake.
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The coming holidays have me thinking a lot about gratitude. I think, in our modern lives, we sometimes push gratitude into a little to-do box. We take five minutes a day to be grateful, or include a line in our journals. But is that really what gratitude means? Is it something we do? Or is it a way that we live - a way of thinking, seeing, believing?
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In the past year, we have brought people together around learning. We have invited people to Snuck Farm to learn about cooking, soap making, crafts, chickens, beekeeping, gardening, and more.
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A few weeks ago, I spent the morning at a friend’s farm. We walked the fields, watching the day take shape. And, like we usually do when we get together, we talked.
This time, we were talking about something so basic that it’s hard to put into words. Somehow, in our meandering conversation, we started talking about what is real.
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For such a long time in our history, if people wanted something, they had to make it. There wasn’t a corner store that carried one of everything. You couldn’t just run to Target to get whatever you needed for the holiday, or pick up out-of-season veggies at the grocery store. Now, we can find pretty much whatever we want, whenever we want it.
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A little while ago, the editorial team from City Home Collective asked to visit the farm for a feature on their blog. We invited them to take a tour of Snuck Farm - and answered their questions along the way. In the City Home Collective team, we recognized kindred spirits.
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This whole year, we’ve taken great joy in bringing you workshops we know you’ll love. From new skills to new hobbies to new opportunities to expand your palate, we’ve kept new ideas coming. One of the highly requested workshops early on was a soap-making seminar. We’ve partnered with Olio Skincare to make it happen!
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The other day, after I’d harvested a new crop of kale and stripped off my gloves, I looked down at the backs of my hands. Then I looked again, startled. I don’t spend a lot of time examining my hands.
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My to-do list is long. Yours probably is, too. Every day, no matter how many items I check off, it seems that more sprout in their place. It’s the Medusa of to-do lists.
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If you’ve subscribed here for a while, or read our social media feed, you know that we care deeply about eating together. It’s a crucial family time, developing our relationships with each other and with the food we eat. We’re happier, calmer, and more connected when we eat together.
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It’s hard, in a houseful of people, to find space and time for yourself. There’s always a chore to do, always something to clean up, always a form to sign or a meal to prepare. People clamor for attention. Work clamors for attention.
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I love eating local. There’s nothing like visiting a farmers market and holding a piece of produce that was picked a few hours ago. It’s a whole-body experience. When you pick up a peach, it’s heavy and sweet-smelling.
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I love eating local. There’s nothing like visiting a farmers market and holding a piece of produce that was picked a few hours ago. It’s a whole-body experience. When you pick up a peach, it’s heavy and sweet-smelling. When you pick up an apple, it’s the tiniest bit rough, not polished with wax for long storage. When you rub your thumb over a pepper, it squeaks.
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When I was a kid, one of my jobs was helping Grandma clean up around the house. As I’m sure was true for many of you when you worked on your childhood chores, I was always tempted to rush through it. I wanted to cut corners, wiggling out of “just right” and into “good enough.”
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