Moon Dog Farms

Certified Naturally Grown family farm growing fruits, vegetables & flowers in the Texas Gulf Coast

MoonDog Farms is dedicated to stewardship of the land, reinforcing a healthy community and producing great food.  

"Let's go to Texas, where it's safe."

I'll not bother you with the semi-predictable history of two hopeful twenty-somethings looking for fulfillment, diversion and the search for a use of their liberal arts degrees. 

Instead, I'll tell you about truly good things. Fruit. Big Skies. Making Friends. Helping people. Eating.

Our man Saxton performs a sound perimeter check of the future veggie beds.

Yes, it is reminiscent of a high-budget Cotton commercial, but the adventure in our lives right now has little to do with textiles.  Alex, my partner in life and now, partner in business, me (Casey), and our dog have started a farm in Texas.  A real-deal, barns-and-dirt, veggies-and-seeds, hoes-and-spades farm. 

AND there's an orchard to boot.  In truth, the orchard was on the land already, but that will lead me to whole separate story about the generosity and faith of others that got us to this land--and I'll leave that for another time.  

Have you ever seen such measured excitement? (Prepare for slews of bad puns from me. Can't help it.)

Right now, what feels most important to impart to the internet universe is a feeling.  (Yeah,  a feeling-- if we're calling ourselves Moon Dog Farms there's gonna be some granola woobiness.)  A trembling from fear, gratitude, excitement and uncertainty.  Alex and I are in that odd position of finally reaching a place you've dreamed and plotted and imagined (not to mention spreadsheeted, argued about and completely wigged out over) for years.  We made a decision to have a farm, one day, and be a real part of something we believed in.  And now, the farm is here--willing us to succeed, and completely at peace with us falling flat on our sweet, naive little faces.  

Both native Texans, Alex and I discovered a newfound pride in our homestate that we would never have claimed prior to leaving the Lone Star State.  Upon driving away several years ago in our loaded-up truck with poochie in tow, high on Steinbeck-induced visions of aimless wanderings and the Real America, we never imagined that after many a great adventure and many additional notches to our cultural toolbelt that, hey--we're Texans and we like it.  We think it's a great place.  A huge, amazing expanse of land, peoples and animals, and a sense of home that belongs to us.  

Oh, there's boneheads in Texas. Dangerous ones.  And there's still many a country, city and hamlet that I'd like to visit and live in one day far from here. But for the past year, (perhaps longer for Alex) we've dreamed of coming home.  Our family and our hearts were calling, and so was the land.  The farm.  Our farm.

One of the magnificent Oaks we've missed.

So, weeks before leaving our most recent Northeast home for the long drive to Tejas for Christmas and an open-ended forever, our mantra became "Let's go to Texas, where it's safe."

Perhaps this sentiment came about more from a fickle vehicle that sometimes worked, sometimes didn't (sometimes while driving) or the increasing awareness that while good friends abounded, family was over 2 days drive away.  "Safety" wasn't the concern--more the  feeling that we could truly dig in to something, take a leap into Big Kid-dom.  Really, I believe it was just an admittance that we were ready for a return and ready for some roots.  

Delicious grapefruits!

As this farm progresses, and our imaginings become things we can touch and see (and taste!) I hope that this blog can be a reminder to myself--'cause who the hell else is really gonna read this?-- that we want to hold hands with that scared-excited feeling as long as we can.  Safety will come and go, and certainty will never stay, but taking risks with someone you love and working towards small happinesses for you and your own tiny world...that's something.  

Actually, it's the fabric of our lives.  

McFarmer looks upon the orchard. Pears and pears to come...

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