Articles written by John Hatcher

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On The Farm: Seasons end, but not the chores

It’s fitting that on Sunday morning the sun rose at nearly the same place in the sky and at nearly the same time as it did the day we started this farm season back on April 1. That’s the day...

 By John Hatcher    Opinion    June 23, 2023

On The Farm: Farming life has its turns

Farming teaches you that nothing stays the same. Everything is in flux. In early spring in Minnesota (meaning it's still winter), we look for any signs that spring might be coming. As the bird... Full story


Can small-scale farming save rural America?

The snow began just outside of Madison, Wisconsin. We had been driving north for days, watching the landscape change from green to brown until the world looked like an old black and white photo. And t...

 By John Hatcher    News    April 29, 2022

On The Farm: Patience is this year's test

On Sunday, we took a day off. There are a million things we could do; we should do. But we've also learned how important rest is. A day to recharge and reflect. Ok, to be fair, we're trying to learn.... Full story

 By John Hatcher    News    March 19, 2021

Feeling grateful - and sad

I've read and listened to a lot of stories in the past week about "the moment" when people realized that the global pandemic was going to change their lives as they knew it. While we'd been living...


Lands: Past is prologue in new farm formation

With our farm's first growing season fast approaching, a century-old picture on the living room wall inspires us. The image is cloudy and faded at the edges. The faces of the people are blurry. We... Full story

 By John Hatcher    News    February 19, 2021

We share in calling this place our home

In June of 2020, we turned off County Road 6, just east of Barnum, and onto the gravel driveway at the Johnson family farm. It may be our new home, but it will always be the Johnson farm. We had just... Full story

 By John Hatcher    News    April 24, 2020

Trying to put down roots in Carlton County

It was the stand of white pines that sold us this spring. We turned off the gravel road, stepped out of the car and you could hear it: The wind whistling through the pine needles. We were home. Or,...


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