This is not a blog. This is a running record of farm stories and fails — written live, from the mud, by a man who once believed twelve acres would be “peaceful.” Everything here actually happened. That’s the problem. My suffering is your entertainment. Enjoy responsibly.
New dispatches drop every Tuesday and Friday. The farm does not take weeks off. Neither does the suffering.
Browse by category of regret
Latest dispatches
Want every single one on a single page, newest first? That’s Bigfoot’s Rabbit Hole. Cancel your evening.
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A Grown Man Getting Emotional in a Pasture
Three years ago I promised Mariah a horse property. Tonight I came home, looked across the pasture at Coco and Freya standing together, and realized I actually kept it.
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Apparently I Accidentally Traumatized the Neighborhood
Apparently I accidentally traumatized the neighborhood. I invited four people over for dinner. Two of them called separately asking if this was… …a dinner party. One asked if it was my birthday. Another asked if they needed to wear nice clothes. Buddy… It’s spaghetti. Not…
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Living With a Vet Tech
Living with a vet tech is like living with the world’s weirdest CSI agent. I walked into my kitchen this morning and there’s a microscope sitting next to the coffee maker. Mariah has the biggest grin on her face staring into a Petri dish. I…
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Man vs. Tree
We decided a couple of dead trees had to come down before the fence could go up. And by “we,” I mean Mariah held a strategic planning meeting with herself and assigned me the action items. It’s amazing how “our project” always seems to end…
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Help Me Find the Zombie Chicken of My Dreams
BLOOMINGDALE, I NEED HELP FINDING THE ZOMBIE CHICKEN OF MY DREAMS. Yes, this is a real chicken. The face that already knows how everyone in the room dies. Apparently regular chickens weren’t unsettling enough. Somewhere along the evolutionary assembly line, nature looked at poultry and…
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I Didn’t Choose the Farm Life. The Farm Life Chose Me.
“I didn’t choose the farm life. The farm life chose me.” Tupac was talking about something completely different… but somehow it still feels accurate. Last night at exactly 11:00 p.m., right when I was fast asleep. And let’s be honest, once you cross 40, staying…
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