When Harvest Never Comes

end of year thoughts on writing & farming || December 2025 newsletter 🌱

Hello, friends —

I missed sending out a newsletter in November, mostly because I got in my own head about writing, not because of a lack of time or energy. Admittedly, I’m still in that space, but I knew that if I stayed there, it would be harder and harder to come back. So, here I am.

I started a nine-month writing-intensive program in September, and since then I’ve written almost 20,000 words toward a book project I’ve dreamt of for years. I’m proud of myself for the words I’ve put on paper and onto Google Docs, and for mining my brain for memories of my early days as a farm wife and mother. But at times, it’s hard to stay motivated, knowing I might be planting seeds that I’ll never see come to harvest.

Sitting at my kitchen table, our house surrounded by fields, I keep thinking about the winter wheat we planted in September, which is now lying dormant underneath the cold soil. Within a week of seeding, the green shoots came up—visual proof of the work that was done. Save for a major disaster, we know it will continue to grow next spring as the Earth warms. Of course, there’s still the possibility of a crop failure: drought, insects, or hail. But we’re moving forward, making harvest plans. Like we always do.

In farming, there’s always the risk of crop failure, but it’s never a concern that what we planted will turn into a different crop. When the crew seeds winter wheat in the fall, they know winter wheat will come up, not a different crop.

But it’s possible the seeds I’m planting—chapters for a book—might come up as single essays, or a totally different book. Maybe all 20,000 words are a warm-up, none of the stories ever making it into a book. Or maybe the germination period will be much longer than I hoped.

A difference I struggle to reconcile when farming is more cut-and-dry.

It’s possible my words will continue to lie dormant for many seasons. But I’m trying to remind myself that the work, though unseen, is still there, waiting to bloom in its own time.

Maybe you, too, are waiting for something that might not happen. Maybe you hoped to have an end-of-year post announcing a book deal or a new business venture. Maybe you hoped this was the year you’d get your dream job. Maybe this was the year you prayed you could announce the birth of your first child.

Or maybe, you’re finally seeing the fruits of your labor after many years of dormancy.

Wherever you are in your journey, I see you—even if the seeds are still below the surface.

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Farm Happenings

Since my October newsletter, a lot has happened on the farm! The heifer calves shipped in November, the final loads of calves sent to a new ranch. The bred heifers were sold in early December. The farm crew is hauling grain, emptying bins from this summer’s harvest, which will continue through the winter, making room for next year’s harvest. The grain cleaner came out in November and cleaned the lentils for planting this spring. All of the cows were hauled home from summer pasture ahead of calving season in November. This is also a season of maintenance for the farm crew, as they prepare the combines and tractors for harvest next summer.

Up next: calving season! Coming soon: lots of newborn calf photos. 🐮

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Things I’m Loving . . .

I finished reading the final books in the Sarah, Plain & Tall series. I enjoyed them all, but the first three were my favorites. I’m slowly reading Theo of Golden by Allen Levi and Writing Creativity and Soul by Sue Monk Kidd (I would say this book is geared more toward fiction writers).

If you want to cry, go ahead and watch this video. If not, skip ahead. I’ve watched it several times and cried each time. Well done, Chevrolet.

As writers, we all have someone who has influenced our work and encouraged us. I have many writer friends I would put in that category, but at the top of the list is Callie R. Feyen. I do not know that I would still be writing without her words of encouragement over the years. She’s an amazing editor, but an even more beautiful writer, and her latest book, When We Swung From Church Bells, just came out! It’s a beautiful book of essays on faith told through stories. Congrats, Callie!

For my fellow writers, the Exhale Community is another reason I keep writing. Open enrollment begins today, and if you use the code EXHALEBFF, you get your first month for $5! You can cancel anytime, so give it a try for a month for five bucks and see what you think!

The Internet has promised us so much, and while it can absolutely add value and even facilitate relationship, I don’t think it can’t give us community in the truest sense. We are embodied beings who need embodied community. - “A Unity of place” by Amber Adrian

If you’re looking for some binge-worthy podcasts, I have a few for you in several genres! Beth’s Dead - this was a jaw-dropping and somewhat terrifying series about parasocial relationships. Season four of Reframing Rural is about farm & ranch succession stories, which are so important for farming families to listen to. And finally, I couldn’t stop listening to The Birth Keepers podcast. TW: infant loss. I’m not sure if I live under a rock, but I had never heard of “The Freebirth Society.” I didn’t know it was even a thing to forgo all medical care and give birth on your own by choice. I’ll admit, I got a little “crunchier” with each pregnancy, and only had one hospital birth, but to not have any prenatal appointments or a midwife is wild to me. Granted, my third birth was technically a “freebirth” with just Rich and me in a pickup… but that was not planned, and I had prenatal care all nine months. :)

It seems that here, too, the world can offer moments that are soft, strange and sustaining. Here, too, in a life where caregiving feels like walking a tightrope, where each wobble feels fatal, beauty is a companion. It doesn’t cancel out the ache, but it resists the darkness. It survives alongside us, while we do the gutsy work of patching doors and gathering shattered pieces. It stays, just like the friends who refuse to look away. - “The Red Balloon: Another Paris Love Story” by Reb Smyth

ICYMI: I wrote two posts since my October newsletter. Defining Word: Gather and Dear Urban Going Rural.

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I hesitated to send this post, but since you’re reading it, I pushed past that. :) I didn’t want to send out another post about writing, and I’m not doing so for anyone to feel sorry for me, because I know this is the writer’s life, and I am certainly not the only writer to experience this.

I love reading everyone’s end-of-year recap posts, their Ins & Outs for 2026, and I’m cheering for those with exciting news to end their year! I wanted to do something similar, but every time I sat down to write, those words wouldn’t come. I kept coming back to the idea of “writing what’s true.” And this was what felt true.

While my intro wasn’t a cheerful recap of my highs for the year, I hope you find some hope and encouragement. And maybe feel less alone if your year isn’t wrapping up the way “everyone” else’s is. Of course, I hope it goes without saying that I do not mean to imply that my year was terrible; it was filled with many blessings and good things. This is just a small snippet of a year well-lived.

As this year comes to a close, I’m reminding myself that we’re all planting different varieties of seeds, with different growth periods and harvest times.

And the farmer knows that if he never plants the seeds, harvest will never come.

Until next time,

Stacy