A New Chapter of This Farmish Existence

Picking my way between towering sunflowers and cornstalks, I sussed out the pumpkins and squashes hiding in that over-run patch. Many of the vines had already yellowed and died back, and when I found pest damage on a few of the fruits, I decided it was time to move on the harvest. So, last Sunday I made trip after trip, carting the pumpkins from the garden to the farmhouse—every one of them big and beautiful, with a wide variety—and lined them up on the farmstand. Every one of them a trophy to this farmer.

Finally able to get into that overgrown plot, I collected the corn, too. The delay had given the weevils time to bore into a handful of ears, but I still had a respectable harvest—enough for BraeTek and I to enjoy a couple of home-grown meals, with a few extra to share with CSA members.

This is where committing to the CSA pays off for locals. Some weeks I don’t have quite enough of something to stock the farmstand with it—but I usually have more than BraeTek and I can eat on our own, and it makes me happy to pass the extra along to CSA members.

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A New Chapter of This Farmish Existence

Since my last farm update, where I was fretting about how I was going to cover the thirteen hundred gallons of fuel we need to get us through a Maine winter, something has shifted. My fairy godmother has come through for me again, sending a generous $6,500 toward the winter heating bill, and I’ve been able to order the first fill-up of the season. (More on how that actually went, below.)

Laughingly, I call her my “fairy godmother” because in some ways I do feel a bit like Cinderella. This person—one of my devoted and faithful readers—sees the good work I’m doing here and has taken it upon herself to support it. She likes and restacks my essays and notes. She put her money where her mouth is and upgraded her subscription. And all season she’s been sending donations here and there, greasing the wheels and keeping Runamuk afloat. What that generosity has done is allow me to write and farm full-time as a single mom and solo farmer, and that is huge, my friends.

Most farms run on off-farm income. Typically one or both partners works a job in town, and that paycheck is what keeps the operation going. I don’t have a partner, which means the off-farm job and the farm work both land on me—and for years, that’s been one of the hardest limits on Runamuk’s growth.

This season I was finally able to tackle projects I’ve been putting off for years. The garden looks amazing. Runamuk’s reputation has grown because I’ve had time to give to marketing. And now, with the winter’s heating fuel covered and help lined up for the outstanding property taxes, I can skip taking on housemates who would disrupt the goings-on here, I can skip seeking off-farm employment, instead immersing myself in a winter of writing and setting the farm up for a bigger and better 2027. This allows me to get down to the actual business of farming. It’s a new chapter of this farmish existence, my friends—and it. is. marvelous.

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What’s Been Happening On The Farm

BRAETEK’S FIRST CAR!

We pulled the trigger on the purchase of BraeTek’s first car last week. He’s been saving since March, when he first started working at Longfellow’s Restaurant as their dishwasher. Hoping to have winter wheels, and to downgrade the truck from being our household’s every-day driver, I’d been watching Facebook Marketplace for a Subaru for sale locally and in his price range. I had two lined up only to have them sold out from under me, when finally the third panned out and we brought home this 2009 Subaru Forester. She’s not perfect, but will make a good starter car for a young man just starting out in life. Best of all, as a mom I feel confident this car will get my son back and forth to work even in Maine’s wintery weather.

LOW-TUNNEL/OVERWINTERING PROJECT
Determined to overwinter a crop of carrots and onions, I called Johnny’s on Wednesday and pulled the trigger on the hoop-bender investment. Along with it, I purchased a 250-foot roll of Agribon AG-30 for that inner layer—the two items together ran me just shy of $333. I’ll be prepping beds for that crop this weekend, hopeful I’ll pull it off by hook or by crook. At the moment, however, I still need the EMT conduit and a couple rolls of 9 gauge wire to make it happen, and I’m currently out of funds.

The heating fuel gift is reserved for heat and heat alone—I won’t use it for anything else. So if I’m unable to raise the funds, we’ll put this project on the back burner and try again next fall to make it happen.

If you’re inclined to support this cause, a one-time contribution can be made via PayPal or Venmo.

FRANKLIN COUNTY’S MARKETING MEET-UP
This week I attended a marketing meet-up at Morrison Hill Orchard in Farmington, sponsored by the Greater Franklin Community Development group. They served wood-fired pizza and I had a couple glasses of Morrison’s own hard cider while mingling with fellow business owners from across the region. Asked to be part of the two-minute “tips panel,” I spoke about the power of storytelling to promote—not just a farm business, but any business. I shared a hand-out I’d created that included a QR code linked to the Talking Dirt episode featuring David McIlroy, where we talked about that same subject.

➡️If you’re a farmer or business owner and would like that resource, you can download it for free here.

FIRST EPISODE OF “EAT THE SEASON”
Spontaneously, and because I don’t have enough to do, I’ve decided to start a new series of live sessions I’m calling “Eat the Season.” These are live bake-alongs or cooking demonstrations featuring whatever’s in season, with the goal of helping folks prepare and cook foods they may not be familiar with. We’ll talk about how the crop is produced, ways to store it, strategies for getting picky eaters to try it, and the general ramblings of your friendly neighborhood farmer. I hosted my first show this past week and it was met with good response.

THE HEATING FUEL SAGA
I had to wait the entire long Labor Day weekend, but once the funds were in my bank account Tuesday morning, I called my local provider of choice, Bob’s Cash Fuel out of Madison, eager to get the heating fuel secured. The first disappointment was that over the long weekend, the price per gallon had risen from $4.949 to $5.19. That meant the $6,500 wouldn’t cover the full thirteen hundred gallons I need. “That’s fine,” I told myself. “I’ll get as much as I can now, and buy more this fall so I’m set for the December and February fill-ups.”

Having never had the funds to buy winter heating fuel all at once like this, I didn’t realize fuel companies don’t actually allow you to pre-buy like that. Bob’s has a summer pre-buy window, but the deadline was August 31 and I’d missed it by eight days. I ended up buying five hundred gallons to fill our two empty 275-gallon tanks, and the rest of the funds will have to be stashed for later. We’ll squirrel more money away to add to it, because the price is only going to keep rising, and I’m anxious about what it’ll be come January.

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What Comes Next?

The pumpkins came in heavy this year—big, beautiful, a nice assortment. Seeing them lined up on the farmstand-on-the-porch fills me with glee. Despite the weevils, a small but respectable harvest of corn made it to my table and the tables of several other households as well. Small wins, to be sure, but the kind that add up over the course of a season—proof that my efforts aren’t in vain, even when it doesn’t look like much progress on the day to day.

And the reason I get to be here at all, doing this work, is because of readers like YOU. Because someone believed it was worth making possible.

For years, farming alone has meant farming around something else—an off-farm job, part-time gardening gigs, a housemate to help cover the mortgage, the farmstay BnB, the campsite rentals—whatever it took to keep the lights on and the house warmish through winter. This season, for the first time, I didn’t have to choose between the farm and the paycheck. I got to just farm. And write. And show up for this land and this work the way I always meant to, rather than squeezing it into whatever hours were left over in a day.

Having that kind of support has given me a sense of relief and freedom I’ve honestly never known. I’ve been actively working to let go of that old sense of survival mode, stepping into a new chapter of my life. A new chapter for Runamuk. It’s an amazing feeling, and one I intend to savor now that it’s finally come.

There’s something profound about it for this wayward farmer. I grew up literal trailer park trash, and left behind a dysfunctional and traumatic childhood in pursuit of healing. And I followed this burning desire to work with and protect the land. Knowing there are people out there who really do want to see this work continue at Runamuk gives me hope and strength, and reinforces my commitment to it.

None of this was handed to me. I’ve had to bust my ass, keep picking myself up again and again, always making the conscious decision to continue on down this path. And it helps to know I’m not the only one appalled by the current state of affairs. So much of what should be ours—our resources, our money, our time—has been quietly siphoned off by corporations that answer to shareholders, bleeding people like you and me for everything we have.

Runamuk is my answer to that. This is my way of taking a stand—one acre, one harvest, one season at a time.

And next season, it’s growing. A bigger CSA. New signage on the trails. I’ve decided to hold few on-farm events if I can get insurance. Benches, a kiosk, picnic tables—the pieces that turn “conservation land” into a place people actually come to sit and stay awhile. All of it made possible because this season, for once, I got to just focus on the farm. So thank you. Thank you to my Fairy Godmother of a benefactor, thank you to every paid subscriber and CSA member. And thank you to YOU, just for being here and reading these words. I appreciate you.

Until next week, farm friends.

Sending love and good juju to you and yours.

Your friendly neighborhood farmer,

—Sam