If I had to sum up 2025 in one sentence, it would be this: I started the year eager to grow, spent most of it wondering if I was failing, and ended it realizing just how much ground I actually covered.

Year two of farming was supposed to be about rhythm. About applying the lessons of 2024 with a little more confidence and a lot fewer mistakes. Instead, 2025 asked me to slow down, pay attention, make hard calls, and build systems (and protocols) that will last longer than my optimism on January 1st.

This was not an easy year. But it was a meaningful one.

Winter: Beginnings That Saddened and Fed Us

January arrived with snow, ice, and my first animal harvest. Dolly and Loretta were processed, and while I knew it was coming, nothing really prepares you for that first time. There was grief, yes, but there was also gratitude. The theme of “both/and” is ever present in farming. Their pork filled my freezer and fed my family and friends all year long. In a season when time and energy were scarce, having pasture raised meat on hand was nothing short of a gift.

If you want to understand how I think about food, stewardship, and honoring animals, that experience shaped a lot of it.

Spring: New Life and a Reality Check

February and March brought my first lambing season. Tater Tot, Jelly Bean, and Huckleberry arrived and immediately made sleep optional and joy unavoidable. Lambing is equal parts miracle and mayhem, and it was one of the brightest chapters of the year.

At the same time, the universe and the financial markets had other plans. Q1 of 2025 found me deep in a job search, navigating uncertainty in both my W-2 work and the broader economy. I made a job move in April, and in between roles I took a few precious weeks off.

Instead of resting, I hired help and repaired fences in what would become my cow field. Not glamorous, but necessary. Farming has a way of rewarding practicality over aesthetics every single time.

April: Cows, Mentorship, and a Big Milestone

That fence work made my biggest 2025 goal possible. In April, I purchased my first bred heifers (now very much cows), Blanche and Betty, from the farm next door.

Along with the cows came something even more valuable: mentorship. The neighbor who sold them to me has answered countless questions, helped build infrastructure in my barn, and never once made me feel foolish for asking. Trying something new that involves 1,000 pound animals can be overwhelming and it can be easy to second guess decisions or overanalyze the best approach. Having someone willing to share knowledge and lend a hand changes everything.

Summer: Distance, Disease, and Decisions

Shortly after starting my new job, I traveled over 1,000 miles away for training. Naturally, this is when the sheep decided to go on their own little adventure, breaking out of their fence and exploring the barn. They were fine. I was… stressed, but also grateful for friends that showed up and corralled them back.

Then summer took a harder turn. I found an abscess on Elderberry’s neck. Testing confirmed caseous lymphandenitis (CL). She was culled. A testing and biosecurity regimen followed. Peanut developed a suspicious spot before the second round of testing and ended up quarantined in my garage. Traumatizing for both of us, if we are being honest. Her test came back positive, and she too had to be culled.

That period fundamentally changed how I will approach animal purchases, quarantine, and health screening going forward. It also unlocked a level of germ paranoia I did not know I was capable of. Bleaching boots. Sterilizing buckets. Obsessively managing water troughs. Doing everything I could to avoid spreading bacteria across my land.

Next steps include another round of testing and a controlled burn on the exposed pasture. None of this was in the 2025 plan. All of it is now part of farming here.

August and September: Joy Shows Up Anyway

August brought Beatrice.

Blanche delivered my first calf two weeks early, on the same day I learned Peanut would need to be culled. Beatrice means “bringer of joy,” and she has lived up to her name in every possible way. She has been the brightest spot of 2025 and a reminder that farming rarely gives you clean emotional lines. Grief and joy often arrive together.

At the end of September, Betty welcomed her calf, Bunny, and just like that my starter herd was four. Beatrice and Bunny have become fast friends, just like their mommas. 

Fall: The Slog

Fall went by in a blur. My new job has been intense. Market volatility continues. Most days felt like a careful balancing act between keeping animals alive, keeping myself alive, and meeting deadlines at a computer.

The sheep entered a holding pattern, with my vet advising no new animals in 2025 following the CL situation. For someone wired for forward motion, the waiting was painful. Long work hours, limited daylight, and stalled growth made Fall one of the heaviest seasons I have navigated yet.

Still, even in the slog, there were small acts of faith in the future. I sourced Appalachian ginseng seed here in north Georgia and planted three small test plots in the woods. Thousands of seeds went into the ground, an experiment in patience measured not in months, but in years. It felt fitting. A quiet investment with no immediate payoff, rooted in the belief that I will still be here when it is ready.

During that time, I turned my attention inward. I focused on my physical health. I tracked macros, prioritized protein and micronutrients, and returned to a gym routine. Longevity is not optional if you want to farm. Taking care of my body is part of taking care of this land.

December: Science, Hope, and a Look Ahead

December brought fresh energy. I completed my first cycle of artificial insemination (AI) with the cows to breed them back for fall 2026 calves.

I tracked heat cycles with near-religious devotion. I went deep into expected progeny data (EPD) research, selecting sires aligned with my herd goals of docility and calving ease. Betty was bred to Rainfall. Blanche was bred to Tehama Patriarch. Now we wait and watch closely for return heats to assess whether the pregnancy caught.

It felt good to use both instinct and data. To make decisions rooted in long term vision rather than crisis management.

What 2025 Gave Me

This year was not always joyful. But with every setback and small win, my confidence grew. Not just in the idea that I am doing what I was always meant to do, but in my ability to navigate hard things.

When you farm solo, the responsibility is yours. You decide when to call the vet. You research, troubleshoot, and fix what breaks. You learn fence repair the hard way when a cow jumps one. You keep going.

If you want a snapshot of that energy, I wrote about it here. Farming requires a sense of humor and surrendering to the fact that mother nature is unpredictable.

2025 By the Numbers

• 2 animals purchased: Blanche and Betty
• 5 animals born on the farm: 3 lambs, 2 calves
• 2 animals culled from the flock: RIP Elderberry and Peanut
• 3 test plots of ginseng planted, with thousands of seeds sown
• Countless trips to the local farm supply (truly uncountable)
• 5 vet visits

Looking Toward 2026

In 2026, my priorities are clear.

I want to finish addressing the aftermath of CL and, if the herd is clean, thoughtfully grow the sheep operation.

I want to optimize my pastures for winter grazing with separate paddocks set up for stockpiling fescue. 

I want two more calves in the Fall and to continue building my registered cattle herd slowly and intentionally. I plan to attend more regional bull sales and cattle events, and to take an artificial insemination class so I can become a certified technician and eventually AI my own cattle under mentorship.

Most of all, I want to keep building community. It takes a village to farm solo. I am deeply grateful for my vet team, generous mentors, and friends who answer my questions and show up when I need help. I hope to be that person for others, particularly those who are just getting started.

2025 asked a lot of me. I am tired. I am wiser. And I am still here, still farming, and still deeply hopeful.

If you have been following along, thank you. And if you are new here, welcome. You can find more of these stories over on the farm blog and on Instagram.