Good morning, Reader!

I hardly know how to contain myself this week. The geese are streaming overhead in great, honking lines, the clover is sending up its first shy green shoots, and the robins — oh, the robins — are back, hopping about the yard as if they never doubted for a moment that spring would come. And of course it will. It always does. What a mercy that is.

There is so much to look forward to.

I came home last week freshly encouraged from the Sustainable Farming Association's Grazing & Soil Health Summit — two days surrounded by farmers doing beautiful, careful work: raising nutrient-dense food, healing their land, and doing it with real intention. What stirred me most was the evidence, farm after farm, of what cattle do when you welcome them back into the land. The CRP ground just south of us is decent habitat, but compare it to our grazed pastures and the difference is striking — more insects, more birds, more life in every direction. Cattle truly are a missing link in soil health. They stimulate plant growth, support insect populations, and build fertility in ways that passive land simply cannot replicate. Creation, it turns out, was designed to work together.

And here's what made my heart full to overflowing: several of the speakers I listened to spoke of God's Creation and named Christ as their Savior and their deepest source of joy. Faith and farming have always walked closely together, and the good news — in every sense — was too wonderful for these men to keep quiet.

One unexpected gift of the conference was hearing Temple Grandin speak. Perhaps you know her story? She is autistic, and out of the unique way her mind works, she has transformed how we understand and handle livestock in the United States (and around the world). She is 78 years old, and on that stage she was sharp, curious, blunt, and alive.

At one point she mentioned that she does 100 sit-ups a day. One hundred. At 78.

I sat with that for a moment. It isn't really about the sit-ups, is it? It's about stewardship. It's about deciding you are not finished yet.

She also spoke about thinking in pictures — not in words, as most of us do, but in images. When she designs a livestock facility, she gets down to the animal's level and sees what they see: the shadows, the sudden movements, the distractions we would never notice from our height. She observes, rather than assumes.

That line stayed with me on my drive home and got my mind really turning. Conventional systems reward conformity. Regenerative systems reward observation. There is something so intriguing about that!

Temple said something else worth pondering: The little people are often the innovators. Small farms, independent thinkers — people not pressed into a mold. Regenerative agriculture thrives on diversity: in livestock, in plants, in people, in markets. And if I'm thinking about it more, so do families.

Each of my children thinks differently. Each one carries a strength I simply don't have. Our farm works because of those differences, not in spite of them. Perhaps your family is the same. Perhaps the very way your mind works — the thing that once made you feel out of place — is actually the gift you were meant to bring. I love that so much.

I left with two small commitments.

The first is a 30-day sit-up challenge. (I'm not starting at 100 — but I'm starting.) Strength compounds, whether in muscles, in faith, or in business. Ask me in April how it's going.

The second is simply this: to keep building our farm — and our life — with the courage to think differently. Small does not mean insignificant. Slow does not mean stopped. And your steady, faithful choices? I believe they matter more than you know.

Here on our 144 acres, I'll keep at it — slowly, intentionally, a little differently — and I'm so glad you're along for it.

Here's to different minds doing meaningful work.

With gratitude, Leah

P.S. If you'd like to see regenerative diversity in action this spring, I'd love to show you around. The animals — and the people — are wonderfully, beautifully unique.