Mad Farmer Goes Paid, Kinda

An invitation

Peasant Walking, by David Teniers II

Let me be plain with you, dear reader. I am an old-fashioned man. I like the world of nature despite its mortal dangers. I like the domestic world of humans, so long as it pays its debts to the natural world, and keeps its bounds. I like the promise of Heaven. My purpose is a language that can pay just thanks and honor those gifts, a tongue set free from fashionable lies.

-Wendell Berry, from the poem ‘Some Further Thoughts’

Wendell Berry wrote a book of poems titled, The Mad Farmer Poems, in which a semi-fictional character, what you could perhaps call an alter ego of Mr. Berry, behaves outlandishly, plowing the cemeteries, cursing concrete, and praising ignorance, “for what man has not encountered, he has not destroyed.”

The Mad Farmer takes a stand. He speaks his mind and bows to no man, only his wife. He knows God, as he sees him fishing in the Kentucky river often.

The poems are tragic, funny, profound, like all of Mr. Berry’s writing. And when I read them, as I often do, I feel my heart rise in my throat, a sensation that is not always pleasant, but leaves me in awe of the depths of feeling, inspiration, and encouragement that good writing can stir within oneself.

And that is what I strive to accomplish writing here. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed sharing these stories of guerilla gardening, building and heating our house with wood, adopting chickens, making and using compost, killing our pig, planting trees, virtue signaling, and hedging my bets, among others. There was never a plan other than to write down the mad thoughts that flow through my head while knee-deep in horse shit, or daydreaming of taking my chainsaw to billboards, or sitting on a hay bale watching an owl ambush a vole at dusk.

Amazingly, there are now over 2,000 of you who have come afield. A big thanks to you all for reading, and a special thanks to those of you who support this page financially. I’m truly honored, and humbled by your generosity. 2,000 is as arbitrary a number as any other, but I’ll mount a high horse for a moment and say that it’s kind of like being the unelected mayor of a small town. Ok, I’ll get off the horse now.

Starting in 2025 I’m going to put most articles behind a paywall - if you can’t afford to pay, read on till the end. I’m doing this for a few reasons.

I try to make every post something worth reading. There is enough garbage, real and digital, out there, and time is as precious as salt.

Trying my best to be a good husband and father, running our farm, building our house, and teaching English at a university one day a week occupies most of my time. I write when I can, usually scribbling notes down during the day, then molding them at night when everyone is asleep. I’m not a naturally gifted writer, so writing well takes time. If you see a value in reading what I write, I’d like to ask you to consider paying for this time in what amounts to a craft beer or a couple coffees a month. The income is directly invested back into paying our farm students, feeding our animals, buying seeds, and my ability to dedicate the time to keep writing. By subscribing, you are directly supporting this page, and our little farm.

We make most of our living by running a CSA (Community Supported Agriculture). CSA’s are a subscription model of farming, which, in our case, about 40 friends and neighbors sign up for a season’s worth of vegetables, fruits, and eggs. This model provides us farmers with insurance for a season. It’s on us to grow a wide variety of quality vegetables in such a quantity as to be a good value for our members. However, if a late frost comes and kills off all the tomatoes, our members understand that that is the nature of dealing with nature. No tomatoes this year, but extra potatoes, let’s hope.

I see the business model of Substack as similar to a CSA. It’s a CSW, (Community Supported Writing). I will do my best to craft stories and essays that are worthy of your time, and aim to write 2–4 articles a month. Please understand that I have more time during the winter than I do in spring, and the flow of pieces might reflect this.

To borrow a term coined by Hadden Turner, this page will be a ‘refuge of authenticity.’ I will never use a chatbot or AI software to write or edit my work, except spell check - everyone who knows me knows I can’t spell worth a dam (my wife thinks it’s some kind of anti-authoritarian complex, and I hope she’s right). I have several reasons for this, not least of which is that I think these robots represent the end of free thought and the cannibalization of culture. Sometimes, I find myself wondering if some of the interactions I have on this platform aren’t with bots. Paywalling pieces is a way to ensure that real people are gathering and discussing in this metaphorical community, and I’m not wasting time talking to a chatbot. I do enough of that grading my students’ homework.

I’ll be honest, I’m skeptical of this online medium, and distrustful of the machines and technology it relies on. I’d rather know you all in person, which is why I invite anyone who finds themselves near Prague to get in touch. I’d be delighted to show you around our farm, and if you come all this way, I hope you stay for dinner.

If you would like to continue reading the Mad Farmer, and can’t afford to pay, just send me a direct message. No explanation needed, no questions asked, I will give you a subscription for a year. If your situation hasn’t changed after a year, let me know and I’ll renew it.

Please feel free to get in touch. I’d like to make this as much of a community as the medium allows, and most of all, to speak to people with free minds and dirty hands.

I wish you all a fruitful year to come.

Sincere thanks for reading,

Brett Gallagher