The tiny farm is becoming not so tiny anymore.
Or at least that’s how it feels for what is still essentially a one-person operation (or maybe one-and-a-half — shoutout dad).
Alongside our CSA program, wholesale partnerships, farm stand, and events, we’ve also found ourselves involved in a growing number of other projects.
One of those is our partnership with The Shine Project, where we help provide educational and hands-on farm training for individuals with special needs. We’re also working on a soon-to-be-announced podcast series filmed here onsite in collaboration with the Hands in the Soil podcast. And lastly, we’ve been partnering with AgX to help build out their website and digital toolkit for a new food innovation hub currently launching in Escondido.
It’s been a wild season of growth, collaboration, and saying “yes” to meaningful work rooted in food, community, and the land.
But I’m also beginning to feel the limits of what can be done individually.
So many people have shown up with their talents, ideas, time, and resources to help breathe life into this place. But when it comes to the overall coordination and day-to-day management, that responsibility still largely falls on me.
And as I feel the momentum of this space continuing to build, I’m also feeling a growing need to begin asking for help.
This is not easy for me.
My instinct is to try to do everything myself. Part of that comes from how deeply I care about this place. I’ve poured so much of myself into the farm that it can be hard to trust others to carry the same level of care into the countless small details that make this place what it is.
But if I’m being more honest with myself, I think a deeper part of this comes from an old self-worth wound — the feeling that if I can’t hold everything together myself, then somehow I’m failing.
So I’ve been trying to sit with those feelings instead of letting them control my decisions. Because the truth is, the farm is growing. And more importantly, people have been stepping forward who genuinely want to contribute, collaborate, and help shape what this place is becoming.
And I don’t want my own fear of letting go to become the thing that limits what this farm could grow into.
A mentor of mine shared some wise advice when I told her about this fortunate predicament I find myself in.
When I asked her how I could best lead the farm into this next chapter, she responded:
“Pass along the spirit of the farm.”
When she said this, I closed my eyes and let the words sink deep into my soul.
To me, passing on the spirit of the farm means helping others come into relationship with it.
Because once we enter into relationship with something, the work changes. Tasks stop feeling transactional — something to merely complete. Instead they begin to carry a deeper meaning and sense of purpose.
The work no longer simply gets done by you.
It begins to shape you in return.
It's through this mutual caretaking that devotion naturally emerges and people feel inspired to do their best work.
A new chapter for the farm is coming, and I’m doing my best to prepare for it.
As much as I want to lose myself in the simple pleasures of the garden, I can feel a call to step into a bigger role. One that involves stewarding not just crops, but people. One that will undoubtedly bring more challenges and conflict, but also more perspective, resilience, and opportunity.
If you want to be part of what this farm is growing into, the CSA is the most direct way in.
Buy credits, use them when you want, and pick up a curated box of seasonal produce — no weekly commitment required. Just redeem at least 7 days before pickup and you’re set.
It all feels like it’s happening so fast.
But I’m ready and eager for what comes next.