When we left social media, something became clear. The partnerships we thought were solid were not. Not a single local business reached out. Not one of the food organizations we have partnered with bothered to check in. These are the very organizations we have fought for, defended, and taken blows for. We shook their hands and gave them hundreds of pounds of fresh food and pantry items for free.

The grocery store has trained people to believe that abundance is permanent. Strawberries in January. Tomatoes in February. Fresh berries, asparagus, and sweet corn every single week of the year. You walk in, and the shelves are full. It feels like it will always be that way.

A small farm like ours only survives if we can talk directly to the people who care about it. That is why our newsletter matters more than any social media account ever could.

One of the best parts of getting a new pet is picking out its name. We spend hours bouncing ideas off of each other until a name clicks, and we just can't let it go. Our dogs, Moira and Clementine (Clemmy) started a new trend for us of naming our pets after comedies, a trend that we've now carried over to the chickens.

My grandfather ran a five-acre sheep farm in a small town in southern Colorado. His tools were worn smooth from years of his grip. His workday started before the sun and ended when the animals were fed and the fields were quiet. It was small, simple, and direct. You raised the animals, you sheared the wool, and you kept what you needed for your family. He died when I was eighteen. I am forty-one now, and Alexys and I farm a single acre in the Mid-Ohio Valley of West Virginia. The gap between his way of farming and ours could be measured in decades or in light years.

There is a not-so quiet assumption that “local” automatically means better. Better quality, better ethics, better treatment of workers, better for the environment. The moment a business is labeled local, it gets a halo and people stop asking questions.

Rabbit is a common protein around the world but often seen as specialty here. On our farm, we raise rabbits because they’re sustainable and provide multiple meals from one animal.

At about $19.50, one rabbit can feed your family three to four dinners—much more nourishing than spending the same on treats like ice cream or coffee.

If you’re curious how to cook rabbit and stretch it into meals, this blog shows you the four meals we made with a single rabbit.

Farmers markets are sold as a win-win: farmers earn more, customers get fresh local food, and communities keep money close to home. The reality is far less romantic.

You’re not visiting a U-Pick farm for the experience. You’re working for free.

They hand you a basket and call it tradition. They romanticize it as “connecting with your food,” but let’s be honest: no one romanticized berry picking when it was migrant labor in the sun for $2.35 an hour. Now it’s just dressed up in gingham and nostalgia.

That quick swap of your extra tomatoes for your neighbor’s eggs isn’t just convenient. It’s part of a quiet shift in how people feed themselves and each other. Once upon a time, borrowing a cup of sugar wasn’t nostalgic. It was survival. That world is coming back. Not because people miss it, but because they need it.

If you've ever walked away from a patch of beautiful land because there was a Black Walnut tree nearby, you're not alone. We recently had someone inquire about our Crop Collective who explained they don't have much room because they are surrounded by black walnut trees and so they have to use raised beds. We smiled because every single one of our gardens is under or adjacent to massive Black Walnut trees.

Let’s get this out of the way first: the bees aren’t gone. Not everywhere. Not yet. But they are unstable. And if your food system depends on stability, that should concern you.

Pollinator populations are in decline—regionally, seasonally, and sometimes catastrophically. Some places still have healthy native bees, hoverflies, and managed hives doing their job. Others don’t. And the thing is, by the time you notice the decline in your own garden, it’s already too late to pivot.

We’re not anti-pollinator. We’re anti-fragile. We want food that grows even if the bees don’t show up that day, that week, or that year. Not because it’s fashionable. Because it’s practical.

Our website says we started farming to feed ourselves. And that's true, but it's not the whole story.

We didn't start a farm because we were chasing some pastoral fantasy or trying to live off the land in some Instagram-worthy way. We started because we were suffocating inside systems that demanded everything while giving back scraps.

When we think about currency, most of us picture dollars and cents. But there's another form of currency that flows through our communities every day, one that's far more essential than any paper bill: food.

Noticed how we’re not mowing? It’s not because we’re lazy. It’s on purpose.

When people think of raising farm animals, they often picture big animals like cows or pigs. But one of the most practical and surprisingly rewarding animals to raise for meat is the humble rabbit. Whether you live on a farm or have a small backyard, here are 10 reasons why you should consider adding meat rabbits to your life.

Today’s the day.

The farm stand is officially open, and we’re somewhere between “this is awesome” and “why do we feel like we forgot literally everything?”

Every so often, someone hears the word rabbit and brings up something they read or saw online: "rabbit starvation." It’s usually said as a warning, or a reason not to eat rabbit meat at all.

Let’s clear this up once and for all: rabbit starvation is real—but it has nothing to do with eating rabbit as part of a normal diet. It’s a survival issue, not a food safety issue. And it definitely shouldn’t stop anyone from enjoying rabbit meat, especially when it’s locally raised, clean, and affordable like it is here at Carlton Hill Farm.

When you’re starting out as a homesteader, it’s tempting to just buy everything you need—chicken coops, rabbit hutches, quail hutches, and all the gear that goes with them. And while we do build and sell sturdy, predator-resistant structures here at Carlton Hill Farm, we’re the first to say this: every homesteader should learn how to build their own animal housing.

Quail is a delicious and tender game bird that cooks beautifully in an air fryer, giving you crispy, flavorful results with minimal effort. This easy air-fried whole quail recipe keeps things simple, using fresh herbs and a handful of seasonings to enhance the bird’s natural flavors.