We had a plan.
We had no idea.
We’d always wanted to live closer to the land — to grow our own food, raise good animals, share real meals with the people we love. The more we read, the clearer it got: the only honest way to do that is regenerative farming. Working with the soil, the water, and the seasons, not against them. So in August 2025, with a lot of conviction and almost no experience, we bought the farm. Literally. And we’re learning, slowly and humbly, how to be worthy of it.
Why a farm. And why this one.
We’d been talking, on and off, about a way to live closer to the food we eat and the land we walk on — to know where the eggs came from, to name the goat, to share the meal. Then one Saturday night, over dinner with friends and an extra glass of wine or two, the talking turned into deciding. We called our amazing realtor Sam right then. He met us at a property the next morning. By the time we drove home, we’d decided.
The more we’d read about how to actually do this, the more it pointed in one direction: regenerative farming — building soil instead of mining it, working with the watershed instead of against it, raising animals on the kind of life they’re supposed to have.
We did not have the experience. We did not have the education. We had reading lists, a property we couldn’t stop thinking about, and the kind of conviction that gets you in trouble. So we did the un-cautious thing and jumped in with both feet.
“How hard could it be?”— Famous last words, Wild Roots HQ, August 2025
The answer turned out to be: very. Real farming is harder, more humbling, and more weather-dependent than anything we’d read had quite prepared us for. We have tremendous respect for the farmers who actually know what they’re doing — and especially for Kappie and Joe, our farm managers. They know what they’re doing, they teach us as fast as we can keep up, they’re learning the surprises of this land alongside us, and they somehow make every long day a fun one.
So we’re learning. Naming the animals. Telling the truth about it. Finding our way as we go.
Meet the residents.
The names came easy. The behavior management did not.
- the snack thief
Oreo
Black, white, and possibly part raccoon. Has opinions about gates.
- the smoothie
Nutella
Soft, warm-brown, and sweet enough to make you forget the chewing.
- brain freeze
Slurpee
Fast, fizzy, prone to head-butting things that aren’t threats.
- chief mischief officer
Bowser
Personality of a labrador with a forklift license. Kappie & Joe’s daily cardio.
- the quiet one
Shadow
Stoic. Wise. We said our goodbyes — see the Farm Stories.
- donkey kong
DK
Bigger than physics should allow. We said our goodbyes — see the Farm Stories.
- surprise dependents
The Ducks
We didn’t buy ducks. The ducks bought us. We’re fine with it.
- silent partners
The Bees
Inherited. Mysterious. The pollination union we never knew we joined.
When the lower field briefly became a lake.
Nobody told us we’d bought waterfront. To be fair, we hadn’t — until the rains came and turned the lower pasture into something that genuinely required a kayak. We have since become, against our will, kayaking farmers. We have paddled out to check on fence posts. We have rescued a chicken coop. We have watched a duck look profoundly, philosophically smug.
We’re learning what the land wants to be, season by season, flood by flood. There’s a lot of nodding and saying “okay, noted” to the weather. There’s a lot of YouTube. There’s a lot of laughing, because the alternative is crying in waders.
- spring
The Kayak Era
When “go check the back field” started requiring a paddle and a lifejacket.
- summer
The Blooms
Wildflowers we did not plant, in colors we did not order, exactly where we needed them.
- autumn
The Apples
An ancient, gnarled tree that produces, frankly, the best apples we’ve ever had.
- winter
The Long Quiet
The animals huddle. We huddle. Someone always forgets the gate.
Farm Stories — fresh from the field.
Real anecdotes from real chaos. Written by us. Also written by Kappie and Joe, who actually live with the consequences.
- Snoopy · honest reflections
A respectful farewell for Shadow & DK
How we said goodbye, on the farm’s terms, through the good folks at Martzolf Meats. The hardest, kindest thing we’ve done.
Read the story → - Kappie · field notes
We became beekeepers by accident
The hive was already here. We were the new variable. Here’s what they’ve taught us about minding our own business.
Read the story → - Joe · barn updates
How we accidentally became duck parents
It started with one egg. It is now a small, loud, very wet committee. We love them.
Read the story →
Friends of the Farm
We’re slowly, carefully, building a little circle of people who want to follow along — and, eventually, be invited to small private gatherings on the farm. Bonfires. Tastings. Slow walks. Whatever we figure out how to host without setting it on fire. (No promises.)
Sign me up →