We spent years in tech — good years, mostly — but the alarms, the commutes, and the always-on “new normal” added up. This farm is what we’re building instead.
For years our days ran on alarms, commutes, and screens — the hustle and bustle that has quietly become the new normal. Somewhere in there we realized the moments we actually remembered were small: a good tomato, a slow Saturday morning, dirt under fingernails.
So we’re building a farm around that idea. Small beds, tended by hand. A small stand at a Saturday market. Small batches of honey. Nothing rushed, nothing sprayed, nothing grown at a scale where we’d stop noticing it. The small things, done with care, add up to a big difference — for the soil, for our neighbors’ tables, and for us.
Why “small things”After years in tech — the alarms, the commutes, the always-on — we’re stepping back from the new normal to grow food for our neighbors. Not a big operation. A careful one.
— the family behind Small Things Farm
Year one is ten intensive beds, planted in succession so something good is always coming out of the ground from May to the first frost. Salad greens cut the morning you buy them. Tomatoes picked ripe, not early. Garlic cured the old way. Hives arrive with the first beds, and honey follows when the bees say so.
We’re not chasing scale. If the farm grows — more beds, a small CSA — it will grow slowly, at the pace of two people who want to keep noticing every plant. That’s the promise behind the name.