*I am reprinting here a recent edition of Notes from Essex Farm, because I want to encourage anyone out there to read and learn about and support the Farm. Mostly, however, I am reprinting it here because it made me laugh out loud. Laughter, like good friends and good food, is a definite necessity. Kristin Kimball has written two wonderful books about her life on the farm, Dirty Life and Good Husbandry, which I highly recommend. If you live anywhere in the Adirondack/Capital District/Berkshires – I envy you your ability to become a share-member in their CSA, which is fabulous (I did drive 90 minutes once to take part…) but unfortunately, it’s too far away for me to do on a regular basis.
We’ve got deep summer vibes here this week, with the heavy heat bearing down on us and the annoying biting flies coming on strong and the pastures all starting to crisp. It’s dry enough to shrink the ponds and wilt the cucumber plants in the field. Neighbors as near as Willsboro have gotten two inches of rain in the last few days, but nothing for us. We’ve found some comic/tragic entertainment in watching the radar, as the dense bunches of rain head straight for us, then swerve around us at the last minute. But if you’ve followed along with us for a few years you know what I’m going to say: A dry year will scare you, a wet one will starve you. We’ll be fine, and the fact that there has been rain all around us is a good omen. Rain begets rain, and if there is moisture in the region we’ll get ours eventually.
If we look a little tired, it’s not just heat. Three of the most stressful events that can happen around here are well failure, freezer failure, and animals loose on the road, and we had two of those three in quick succession this week. The main freezer died between Friday and Saturday, full of lots and lots of freshly frozen chickens, plus a year’s worth of butter and the odd box of pig heads. We are very lucky that we’re at a low point for meat storage right now, and we had enough room in our other freezer to store it all, and that Mark Bimonte always shows up to fix our broken freezers so quickly. We’re also so lucky that Ben Eskilstark has us rigged with remote sensors so when the freezer failed, we knew, and had time to get everything moved before it thawed. Thanks to Andy, Joanie, Gracie, Bayley and Brooke for coming over late to help us! Many hands made moving a ton of chicken much lighter work.
The freezer failure was a late night deal, but the sheep breakout was an early morning thing. I was on the couch, in my pajamas, drinking my first coffee, when a car came up the driveway, honking the horn repeatedly. When this happens, which it does a time or two per year, you know exactly what it means, but you are hoping you’re wrong, and that it’s just some harmless lunatic in your front yard. You’re never wrong. I stumbled out to find our neighbor, Jodi, who is relatively new in town. She was dressed to go to work, and was coming to tell me, very nicely, that she had five hundred sheep around her house and a livestock guardian dog in her garage. It’s always embarrassing when animals get out, and there I was still in my pajamas, disoriented without my glasses, and only half a coffee in me, meeting the new neighbor. I pulled Mark out of bed and into the car, and by then the phone was ringing, with multiple reports of our sheep on the road just north of the ferry. Who needs coffee when you have that kind of adrenaline?
We drove north past the ferry and there they were. Even from a distance I could see that the flock had that scattered, high-energy, heads-up look that says they are in the mood for a rodeo. The lambs were lipping hurriedly at tufts of Jodi’s yard, and the ewes were bunched at the road’s edge, getting ready to make another rush across Lakeshore. Meanwhile the ferry traffic was about to pick up; there were two of us, and five hundred of them. Mark and I shared a glance that held twenty years of doing this together: a distilled combo of, holy crap, not again, and we got this. He took the road flank to push them off the asphalt, and I took the south end, to lift them out of Jodi’s garden. Mark and I ran hard back and forth at the edge of the flock, waving jackets and shouting. I sprinted and gasped, and thought, for the thousandth time, we really do need a good working dog.
Just when it looked like we were winning, the livestock guardian dog trotted on scene, bringing with her a dose of cheerful chaos. The flock split again, infiltrating the construction zone at Larry Smead’s place, and I dashed for the road again, turning them just before they hit it. I am reasonably fit but I am not a runner and between the panic and the sprinting I thought I might throw up at that point, only Jodi was about to pull out to go to work, and I didn’t want her to see me keeled over and barfing while the sheep ran back to her garden.
Just then, reinforcements arrived. Joanie, who’d been about to start milking, somehow had the instinct to know she was needed, and pulled up in her car; Lotta got the message on her way to the farm, and came to help us instead of heading to the barnyard. Four against five hundred gave us much better odds, and within fifteen minutes the sheep were back where they were meant to be, the fence was back up and charged, and I headed home for a fresh cup of coffee. The next day, the rams and the livestock guardian puppies got out, and ended up on the lawn of our other new neighbor, Michael, on Blockhouse Road. I guess this is how we welcome new people to Essex now. I’m very glad they are here and are such kind and patient people.
Our members have heard this already but this note goes to a wider audience, so I’m including it here! Thanks to everyone who came to the picnic dinner on July 4th, and my biggest possible gratitude to those of you who helped pull it off. We had an amazing turnout, and served well over 200 meals. It took an epic team effort to make it happen, from dear friends and family and neighbors to some total strangers who happened to pull their camper into the driveway at a clutch moment. Nothing like working a dinner rush over flames to turn strangers into friends. The weather was perfect, the food was great, and spirits were high. But those of you who worked the event with us will understand this best: it was A LOT, and we are still recovering. We’ve decided to cancel the July 25th dinner that was scheduled here at Essex Farm, and focus instead on making the summer share and farm store the best they can be. Reber Rock is rock steady as always, and they are 100% on for their scheduled picnic dates of this Friday July 18th, August 1st, and August 22. And we are still on to close out the series here at Essex Farm on the Saturday of Labor Day weekend, August 30th.
Finally, would you please help spread the word that the Lewis Family Farm just down the road from us is for sale? There is a new listing up this week, with a new agent and a new price. If you aren’t familiar with it, the farm is a jewel; it has the sort of farm infrastructure most people will only dream of, including several houses, high quality barns, good farm roads, fencing, and drainage, not to mention one of the most beautiful views in the Adirondack Park.
And that’s the news from Essex Farm for this hot 29th week of 2025. Find us at essexfarm@gmail.com, 518-570-6399, or on the farm at 2503 NYS Route 22, a mile from the village of Essex, New York. – Kristin & Mark Kimball