The first snow arrived after dark and melted before daybreak. In a haze of exhaustion after a long day of hard work in the cold woods, I held up my phone to the window in an attempt to capture our first fleeting glimpse of moonlit winter.

The year of alchemy has been a blur. Like the snow, the time washed over me and then vanished. I filled my days to the brim. I tried every possibility. I called in favors. I gave it my all. I’m glad I spent this year the way that I did. I enjoyed the challenges and the busy days. It felt good to be active. I can’t sustain this pace long term, but the sprint has been exhilarating.

My goal for 2025 was to make something beautiful out of whatever came my way. I visualized the forest mycelia, consuming dead trees and transforming them into food and shelter and fertile soil. I thought about the Ouroboros, consuming its own tail and using the energy from it to continuously regenerate into infinite wholeness. I saw a phoenix rising from the ashes. The previous year had anchored me firmly into my body, and I was ready to rise up.

My intentions came into being both literally and figuratively. Like the forest mycelia, I grew mushrooms. I drew upon techniques from hugelkultur and lasagna gardening and straw bale gardening and invented my own new hybrid techniques to summon enough fertile soil to revive three tired garden beds and create four new ones. The new soil was like music, and the plants danced. For the first time I grew enough tomatoes to sell consistently all summer. The CSA grew and multiplied.

I received many wonderful opportunities this year, and I dove in. I presented at Cold Spring Elementary School, the Brown County Soil and Water Conservation District annual dinner, the Johnson County Garden Celebration Festival, the Indiana Pawpaw Festival, the Ohio Pawpaw Festival, and the Johnson County Garden Club. I participated in the final two meetings of the Diverse Corn Belt project, a multi-university collaboration with the goal of expanding agricultural possibilities for the Midwest beyond corn and soybeans. I ran a booth at seven different festivals, where I earned sufficient money to supplement my CSA income and keep the farm afloat for another year. Outside of farming, I played my fiddle all over town and even over seas when my band qualified to represent Midwest USA in the Fleadh Cheoil na hÉireann in Wexford. The land is my true love, but music was my first, and this was very special.

The year was filled with beautiful unexpected gifts. My bee hive survived winter for the first time. The apiary grew when I happened upon a wild swarm while walking through the swamp one June evening. My friends and family lent their hands and together we raised a new greenhouse for the farm. My husband and I made significant progress on our woodland understory project. The invasive honeysuckle bushes are mostly gone from the slope now, and newly planted native buttonbush and elderberry will soon grow up to replace them. Along with the gifts, the fates brought goodbyes and hard transitions, as my final three hens left their bodies. They lived good long lives, but I miss them.

The damselflies ruled summer. Each year, one species seems to reach their peak population as we move through the stages of succession on our path towards ecosystem regeneration. Damselflies are predatory insects closely related to dragonflies. They ate so many mosquitoes that I was able to pack away my bug net suit and freely enjoy the summer. What a gift! This land reminds me over and over that I am not alone. I am not the only one doing this work. There are trillions of us, all working towards reviving this place. Animals, insects, bacteria, and fungi, we are each playing our part.

Along the theme of transmutations, I turned trash into treasure. I repurposed scrap materials from unsightly heaps into useful structures. I’ve always thrifted, gleaning things from second hand shops as I found them, but this year I took it to a whole new level. Using online resources like Craigslist and Marketplace, I connected directly with local people who were looking to rid themselves of the specific items that I needed. I found almost everything I needed on the used market, and I spent less, allowing me to stretch my dollars further and complete more farm projects. The dollars I spent went to individuals in my community, not to line the pockets of power-hungry billionaires. Money is power, and it matters to me who I give mine to. The used items I purchased were given new life and diverted from the waste stream, reducing carbon, plastic, and trash. This is a sustainable habit that I will keep. For consumable items like product packaging and potting soil, I bought as much as I could from small businesses, preferably local ones. It takes a little extra time and thought to do it this way, but the better world it builds is priceless.

When I look back over this year, I’m amazed at how much has happened. I’m awed by the beautiful things have grown up around me. So many cherished gifts have been given and received. Friendships and partnerships have blossomed. The farm is soaring to greater levels of abundance. Trees are beginning to bear fruit. The greenhouse is filled to the brim with thriving plants. The year is almost over, but what we started is not coming to an end. This is just the beginning.