Excerpt No. 0004 - We Never Really Own the Land

People ask me how long my family's been farming.

It's a fair question.

But I've never liked the way it's asked.

Because it assumes something I don't believe.

That we own this place.

The truth is...

We're just taking our turn.

Long before I walked these vineyard rows, someone else did.

Long before they did, someone else cared for this valley too.

And someday, someone will walk these same rows after I'm gone.

That's the part that keeps me grounded.

The land doesn't belong to me.

I'm simply the current caretaker.

I don't measure success by how much I can take from the vineyard.

I measure it by what I leave behind.

Healthier soil.

Stronger vines.

A little more knowledge.

A family that still wants to farm.

If I can leave those things better than I found them, then I've done my job.

Modern life teaches us to think in quarters.

Farming teaches you to think in generations.

A vineyard doesn't care about next month's numbers.

Some decisions don't reveal whether they were good or bad for ten years.

Others take twenty.

You plant vines knowing someone else may enjoy their best fruit.

You plant oak trees knowing you'll never sit in their shade.

That's not sacrifice.

That's stewardship.

The same is true of families.

Every generation inherits something.

Some inherit money.

Some inherit problems.

Some inherit opportunity.

Some inherit wisdom.

This Almanac is my attempt to leave behind the last one.

I've made plenty of mistakes.

I'll make more.

This isn't a book written by someone who figured it all out.

It's written by someone who finally realized that every lesson disappears unless someone chooses to preserve it.

If I can spare my children one unnecessary mistake...

If I can help a young farmer notice something I almost missed...

If I can explain why we did what we did...

Then these pages have already been worth writing.

One day this Almanac won't belong to me either.

I hope someone else keeps writing.

Adds another page.

Corrects something I misunderstood.

Improves an idea.

Challenges a conclusion.

That's how knowledge survives.

Not because one person was right.

Because every generation cared enough to continue the conversation.

I don't believe we're called to own this land.

I believe we're called to care for it.

The same way we're called to care for our families.

Our communities.

Our faith.

And the people who will someday inherit all of it.

Filed Away

You never really own the land.

You're simply entrusted with it until it's someone else's turn.

Keith Saarloos
Farmer
Saarloos & Sons