The Shifting Seasons And The Unyielding Spirit Of The Land
G'Day Folks,
Autumn arrives not with a whisper, but with a test. We were spared the worst of Cyclone Alfred, yet the relentless rains still carved their mark upon the land. And just as the storms relented, a new challenge emerged—roving stags, their hunger untempered, pillaging our vegetable fields in their nightly feasts. The bowerbirds, too, have turned their appetites from insects to our tender greens, feasting upon the young seedlings we so carefully transplanted.
What the prolonged rains weakened, the sudden surge of heat—days soaring beyond 30°C—became the final death knell. It feels as though we are being tested on all fronts, the transition between summer and autumn demanding our patience and resilience. Each passing year, March seems to slip further from autumn’s grasp, lingering instead in the clutches of an ever-extending summer. This shift is no longer subtle; it is undeniable. March, once a critical time for planting winter crops, now bears the weight of hotter, wetter conditions that threaten both seedlings and soil alike. We are left to wonder: can we continue as we have, or must we adapt to a new rhythm dictated by a changing climate?
The deer, at least, will not take from us without consequence. We have begun the hunt, and should persistence favor us, our freezers will be filled with venison. Nothing will go to waste. Still, we explore alternatives— motion-sensitive lights, alarms, deterrents—to see if reason can triumph over instinct. And yet, we know nature is persistent; what she cannot be frightened from, she will return to claim.
In past seasons, we turned to nets, envisioning them as a shield against both hoof and beak. But each solution brings its own burdens. Nets demand time—setting them, removing them for weeding, replacing them again, only to repeat the process week after week. Under the humid breath of our changing climate, they also become breeding grounds for pests and disease. Heavy rains press them down, crushing the very crops they were meant to protect. What once seemed a simple fix has proven, season after season, to be anything but.
But adaptation is in our nature. For six years, we have met every challenge with resilience, every hardship with innovation. We will not fight against nature—we will learn to move with her, to listen, to shape our practices not with resistance, but with harmony. This takes time. It takes patience. It takes an unwavering commitment to the belief that true sustainability is not found in control, but in collaboration.
What makes this journey possible—what sets us apart from those who must bow to the demands of large supermarkets—is you. The eater. The supporter. The believer. You walk this path with us, growing alongside us, witnessing the hard truths and the quiet triumphs of sustainable farming. From the outside, the solutions to ethical food production can seem simple, easily packaged for mass consumption. But on the ground, the work is far from easy. To grow a diversity of food at a price the local community can afford is no small feat. And yet, step by step, season by season, we are proving that it can be done.
For six years, not a single drop of chemicals has touched this land nor the food grown on it. Each season, our soil grows richer, more alive. The biodiversity that thrives here is as vibrant as any state forest. And though we have faced hardship, we remain. We endure.
More than that—we grow.
Not just crops, but community.
Not just food, but awareness.
If there is a way to change the world, perhaps it is this. Not through force, nor through grand proclamations, but through love—through the simple act of finding something worth cherishing and sharing it with those who cherish it too. From this, movements are born. From this, revolutions begin.
History tells us that the most profound transformations have always begun with a small group of kindred spirits, bound by a shared love for something sacred. And we know that what we hold sacred is this land—the very earth that sustains us. We grow our food with love. We share it with joy. And in return, we are met with gratitude, kindness, and an ever-expanding community of people who believe, as we do, that there is a better way.
This is just the beginning. And may it continue, long and strong, for generations to come.
Thank YOU for joining us on this epic journey & supporting Your local farmer!