Dear Farm...

written by

Amy Forsyth

posted on

August 15, 2025


Dear new farm,

You came to us in the depths of winter, subtly and without expectation. We visited you a few times to see if we were a good fit for you, and you us, and it turns out our souls somehow aligned. We had been sitting in a place of safety per say, in comfort of the land we had been farming. Little did we know, we needed you. So, we packed our bags, animals, equipment, our whole life, and settled into your arms. 

Winter with you felt quiet but also soaked in the unknown. There was so much to figure out, but also so much to surrender to, as we just hadn't experienced farming your land. So, all we could do is dive in amongst these feelings, hope for the best, and do at least what we knew how to do... grow food. 

So, here we are 8 months later. 

Oh, how you have challenged us, stretched us, hugged us. I want to say loved us, but I think we are still just at like. As we have learned from experience, it takes time to love land (and have the land love you back) and to feel like you know enough to trust it. 

We have cursed you at times for the challenges your newness has thrown us. The unfamiliarity of your layout, lack of infrastructure, messiness that comes with a new property. We have shared pure joy in that newness as well. The views of the mountains and sunsets have given us a sense of home. The lushness of your pastures has been such a pleasant surprise, fueling our animals with beautiful nourishment. The ever-knowing feeling, this will be where we will grow old, and farm as long as our bodies and souls allow. 

It has been a SEASON with you so far to say the least. We know that the newness and unknown we feel with you are temporary, and as time passes the like will turn to love. 

Gratitude swims amongst the clouds and the sunshine we experience with you, and will always be the fuel behind us stewarding your land. 

Looking forward to seasons ahead with you. 

Kindly, Your Farmers, Amy and Kyle. 

More from the blog

Saying goodbye.

Saying goodbye.

People ask if it gets easier. It doesn’t. You just get better at carrying it. The guilt dulls to a workable ache, like a joint that predicts rain. You learn to separate the animal from the meat in your freezer without lying to yourself. You remember their lives, their heart, and you’re grateful in a complicated way. Farming is a long conversation between care and necessity. Raising animals for food means promising them a good life and a swift, respectful death. Most days the promise feels honorable. Loading day it feels like betrayal. Both are true.I used to want to detach myself from the reality of it, but I realize that it's actually not detachment that eases it, it’s the opposite. It’s knowing them so well that their leaving is stitched into every day they’re here. The joy of a lamb kicking its heels for the first time, the friendly glance and nods from our cows, the soft snorgles and oinks from our pigs—these are the same thread that pulls tight on processing day. You don’t cut the thread. You let it run through your hands until it’s done. Processing day forces you to confront the realities of ethical eating. In a world where meat often arrives pre-packaged and disconnected from where they came from, we've chosen a different way. We know exactly how our animals were treated—kindly, respectfully, without the horrors of industrial farms. Yet, the act itself is bittersweet, a reminder that every meal carries a story, a sacrifice. It's why we pause before each meal, why we waste nothing, and why we commit to doing better each year: rotating pastures, improving infrastructure, ensuring compassionate ends. To anyone reading this who simply wants to understand the farm-to-table truth: it's not glamorous, but it's profound. It deepens your appreciation for the land, the animals, and the quiet strength required to honor both. This isn't just about survival; it's about living in harmony with nature's rhythms, even when they break your heart a little.

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Forsyth Family Farm

  • 300 Gunstock Hill Rd
    Gilford NH 03249
  • 6037503975