Thankful on This Little Piece of Land
By A-7 Farms
Thanksgiving week has a way of slowing everything down, even when it doesn’t feel slow. This year started with thunderstorms and gray skies, then opened up into mild, easy weather—highs in the mid-70s, cool mornings, a soft south breeze drifting across the field. The mornings sounded like they usually do: songbirds waking up in the trees, hens clucking, Joe the rooster announcing himself a little louder than anybody asked for, and a new group of pullets chattering from their pen.
Like most years, our “Thanksgiving season” came with some sickness. The kids passed around a stomach bug, and I ended up with an upper respiratory infection. That’s become almost a tradition in itself—somebody always seems to go down the week before or after Thanksgiving. But there was a moment, standing by the new pullet pen after work one evening, when the noise settled into a kind of peace. I watched them peck around, walked back up to the RV, and sat down at the table with Emily and the kids for dinner. For a second I just looked around and thought, I’m really thankful for this. All of this.
The kids’ little garlic and potato garden is thriving, green and stubborn and doing its thing. Our seed order for the 2026 season is in and ready. If all goes according to plan, we’ll start sowing the first trays on January 3rd. It feels good to have something to aim toward, even while we catch our breath.
Thankful for the Land
This week, I found myself especially thankful for two things: the chickens, and the quiet.
The new pullets scratching in their outdoor pen bring a fresh kind of energy to the yard. It’s a simple thing—more feathers, more little feet moving around—but it makes the place feel alive in a different way. Add in the calm before the holiday “storm,” and there’s a sweetness to the stillness that’s hard to describe.
We were blessed with just enough rain to freshen up the land. You can smell it when the sand drinks it in—a bit of earth, a bit of grass, and the promise that things are still happening under the surface. Today and tomorrow are clear and sunny, cool enough to be comfortable. Those little weather mercies feel like gifts.
Inside me, this season is a mix of anxiety and excitement. There’s a lot to prepare for: garden plots, seed trays, chicks, business paperwork, another baby on the way. But even while I was sick, I managed to push a few quiet, important things over the finish line—getting business accounts set up, turning on online payments, and using egg sales this week to test it all out. It wasn’t glamorous, but it mattered.
Some progress on this farm looks like rows of green. Some of it looks like a working checkout link.
Thankful for the Work
One small job that made me especially thankful this week wasn’t in the garden at all—it was fixing the invisible fence wire for the dogs.
Emily came to me and said the fence wasn’t working. Before I could even get outside, Elijah had already tracked down the break in the line. I dug into the tote where I keep our electrical tools, pulled out the connectors and heat-shrink tubing, and we had it repaired in about five minutes. We flipped the power back on, tested it, and everything worked.
It was such a simple moment, but it checked a lot of boxes:
– Our tools were organized.
– Our kids knew enough to find the problem.
– We worked together, quickly, like we’d done this before.
It made me feel useful as a husband—able to solve problems Emily brings me. It made me proud of the kids for jumping in instead of walking away. Those five minutes reminded me that all the “invisible work” of setting up systems and routines eventually pays off.
This week hasn’t been quiet. The kids are off school, and the house and yard are full of noise, games, and back-and-forth chattering. But even with the chaos, some chores have slipped into a kind of autopilot—checking water troughs, feeding pullets, locking them up on proper perches at night. I haven’t touched the garden beds much this week, but the eggs still provided for us. Enough to keep us going, enough to cover a few needs.
Not every week is about big visible progress. Sometimes it’s about keeping the wheels moving.
Thankful for Family
Being sick has a way of showing you where your blessings are.
Early in the week, when the coughing fits were rough, Grayson kept checking on me, asking if I was okay. For all his big feelings and stubbornness, there’s a soft heart in that boy, and I saw it this week.
Elijah and I worked on his scooter together, trying to get it running smoother. While we were looking for lubricant in the Morgan building, he reminded me—without saying a word—of last year’s fall. I had slipped off an upper shelf in there around Thanksgiving and hurt myself pretty good. This year, Eli taped a little “warning sign” on the door to remind me not to repeat history. It was funny, thoughtful, and a little sobering all at once. He’s watching. He remembers. He cares.
Lila had her tender moments too—climbing up next to me while I rested, talking about whatever was on her mind, just wanting to be close. And when I pulled up at the end of the workday, Kira came running, yelling “Daddy!” and wrapped me in a hug that made the day worth it.
The kids weren’t perfect this week. I had to remind them more than once to feed chickens and pick up after themselves. But as soon as someone mentioned eggs, three of them were racing each other to the coop, baskets in hand. That counts for something.
Emily, as always, deserves more gratitude than I can put into words. She shoulders the bulk of the daytime chaos—kids, dogs, meals, messes, emotions. I love my children and hate being away from them, but I’m also thankful for the reset that work gives me. It makes me miss them. It makes me appreciate what she does.
She made a warm, simple meal one cool evening that hit all the right notes: comfort, familiarity, love. It reminded me that home isn’t about the size of the space—it’s about who’s gathered around the table.
Right now, as I think back on the week, I can still see the kids playing tug-of-war in the yard. Nobody was crying. Nobody was screaming. Just brothers and sisters being kids together. That’s something I hope they remember.
Thankful for God’s Provision
Some weeks feel heavier than others. This was one of them—sickness, tired kids, juggling chores, and trying to keep up with everything that needs doing. But even in the middle of the mess, there were these little cracks where the light got in: a quiet evening with Emily, a good meal, kids playing, a calm drive home, a peaceful moment by the pullet pen.
Getting together with my brother, his family, and my mom for Thanksgiving was a blessing. Watching the cousins run around and the adults catch up reminded me how rare and important those gatherings are. We don’t do it often enough, but I’m thankful we had it this year.
A few scriptures rolled through my mind this week:
Psalm 100 — coming before Him with thanksgiving and gladness.
Colossians 3:15 — letting the peace of Christ rule in our hearts and being thankful.
1 Thessalonians 5:18 — giving thanks in all circumstances.
None of those verses promise easy days. They point us toward a steady heart, even when life is uneven.
I’ve also seen patience slowly turning into growth, especially in parenting. When you’re in the thick of it, it can feel like your kids aren’t listening, like you’re repeating the same corrections day after day. But if you keep showing up, keep being consistent, you start to notice small changes. A moment of kindness where there used to be anger. A quick apology instead of doubling down. A brother helping instead of teasing.
Those little shifts are grace at work, even if they’re slow.
Closing Reflections: The Quiet Between the Noises
As we close out Thanksgiving week, I’m hoping the next season brings a harvest of things that matter: healthy garden beds, steady egg production, meat in the freezer, and a stronger sense of purpose for our family. I’m also staring down a year that’s already full—another baby on the way, planting dates creeping closer, and all the normal ups and downs of farm life.
On paper, this so-called “slow” winter doesn’t look slow at all. I’ve got about a month before seed trays start, and once that happens, the year turns into a steady march of chores, planting, weeding, watering, and harvesting. Add a newborn to that, and it sounds like a lot.
But I’m thankful for the space this week gave us—to be sick and still be okay, to rest and still inch forward, to eat too much and laugh with people we don’t see nearly enough. I’m thankful that, somehow, God keeps giving us just enough: just enough strength, just enough time, just enough encouragement to keep moving.
If I had to summarize this Thanksgiving week in one image, it would be this:
All of us gathered around a table, plates piled high, kids smiling with gravy on their faces, grown-ups talking and laughing with a few pockets of silence in between. The kind of silence that says, We don’t do this often, but I’m glad we’re here now.
To anyone reading this—family, friends, or new faces finding A-7 Farms for the first time—here’s what I hope you take away:
Be thankful for every little thing.
Not just the obvious blessings, but the hard days, too. The coughs, the broken wires, the muddy boots, the arguments that turn into apologies, the tired evenings where you still sit down and eat together. All of it is shaping you. All of it is part of your story.
We’re grateful you’ve spent part of your time with our family and this little farm in Central Texas. I’m looking forward to the chapters ahead—growing as a farmer and a father, seeing this community take shape, and sharing the small, honest pieces of our life as we go.
The world has plenty of noise and plenty of darkness. Out here, we’re trying to make a little more room for patience, grace, and gratitude.
We’re all in this together.
