And ideas for shorter breaks if you can’t take a sabbatical

“How ya gonna keep ‘em down on the farm

After they’ve seen Paree’

How ya gonna keep ‘em away from Broadway

Jazzin around and paintin’ the town

How ya gonna keep ‘em away from harm, that’s a mystery

They’ll never want to see a rake or plow

And who the deuce can parleyvous a cow?

How ya gonna keep ‘em down on the farm

After they’ve seen Paree’”

—Arthur Fields -1919

All of us in this business get overwhelmed. We do this work out of love for plants, for watching them grow, for being in the soil, for taking care of the land. But sometimes – often times – it’s just hard work. The work can take its toll on the body, and it can be so all-consuming that there’s not much energy or time left for having fun. I remember one farmer early in my farming career complaining that at a certain point in the season, he barely had the energy to walk to the mailbox at the end of day.

So what if you could just take a break to recharge – a real break, not just a month in the winter, but a full year, something like a “sabbatical from farming.” While I know this will not be a realistic possibility for many, it might be for some, and I wanted to share my observations of a thriving small-scale vegetable farm that did just that – took an entire year off!

The farmers wish to remain anonymous, but I’ll describe some basic background of their farm. Right off the bat, they’re story is not of a typical “family farm.” Instead, they are a three-way partnership of equal business partners successfully farming on leased land for – here it is – 20 solid years. All three are first generation farmers. All three are firm believers in flexible hours and avoidance of a locked and irreversible schedule. They embody Wendell Berry’s reference to “freedom from an employer and freedom from employees.” Over the years, they have found strategies for dividing farm responsibilities and the farming calendar in ways that work for all three.

Along the way, they have developed a profitable, much-loved CSA farm in their community. The CSA includes 150 families plus donated shares for the burgeoning refugee community in a nearby city. They grow in Zone 5A in New York’s Mohawk Valley and the farm is made up of ~10 acres with ~3 acres in production of market vegetables and flowers each season and the rest in cover crop rotations. Each of the three farmers lives simply, well within their means, with well-guarded savings and small business enterprises outside the farm, and each tries very consciously to, as you might say, “go lightly on the land.”

But even with 20 years of well-oiled separation of responsibilities and hours guarded for family and creative pursuits, farming is, well, farming. These farmers are in their 40s and 50s – they’ve been at this their entire adult lives. Beyond the toll on the body and energy, the question can also creep in, as one of them puts it, “is running a farm truly how I want to be spending my one wild and precious life on earth?”

Now the thought of putting a pause on a colossus that you have invested 20 years of your life in, of putting a pause on a farm that has become a treasured community bulwark – well, that would cause many of us to embark on an agonizing, list-making, pros-and-cons-obsessing journey. But I am here to relate to you that these folks made the decision in a matter of minutes.

As they tell the story, the decision-making conversation didn’t even take up the time of a full bed of carrot weeding. As one of the farmers put it, “Each of the last few years, the idea has crossed my mind. I like round numbers so when we hit our 20th year, it felt right, and well earned.” She brought it up out in the field one day. One of the other partners, after 20 years of fairly sedentary living, had recently caught the travel bug, so she was quickly on board. The third partner, the most flexible of the 3, perhaps the most light-on-the-land-living of the three, threw up his hands and contributed “either way” to the conversation. The votes were in and the decision was made before well before the weeds were out of the carrots.

And with a long bed of carrots to go, the conversation turned to some even thornier issues – how would they break the news to the CSA? Would they be able to retain their members? Would they themselves ever want to come back to farming… “after they’ve seen Paree”?

To break the news to their CSA, they decided to keep it a guarded secret until Autumn so as not to affect the current season’s experience. When they did reveal the news, with a promise to be back in 2026, most members responded with, “well deserved, we’ll miss you and see you in 2026!” They also accepted $25 deposits for the ’26 season, and did later send out a mid-summer picture of field preparations for the ’26 season, to answer the doubts of anyone skeptical they would come back to the farm.

So what was it like in March and April of 2025 to come into spring without all the wild madness of planting season? A joy, they all say, but also – perhaps surprisingly – an abiding sense of restlessness. Although they figured they’d be able to enjoy their land all the more without the pressures of farming, they found that much of their relationship with this land was bound up into the work schedule. To answer this to some extent, they kept their line of garlic going and entered an agreement to grow potatoes and winter squash for a neighbor – a way to keep their hands in farming, low pressure, just enough.

One of the farmers reflects that, “I was surprised to find how good it felt each time I had a few hours of farmwork to do!” And as a bonus, they were able to do a few “primp and fluff” projects that likely would not have otherwise happened – some drainage, some infrastructure, some improved facilities…soothing stuff. It also didn’t hurt that the area experienced the worst spring weather in decades followed by a scorching 3-month drought: what a year to take off farming!

In all this, there was lots of time to rest and respect the body, reflect, and reset. One partner relates that their body was very happy to take a season off the heavy lifting and squatting, but that she also made sure to hit the gym frequently to stay in farm shape! Another mentioned intense relief not to be immersed in the emotional worry and physical strain that such an adverse weather season would have otherwise demanded. All three mention the word “freeing.”

And free as they were, there was lots of time for fun. The list of travel destinations (keeping in mind that envy is among the 7 Deadly Sins) included Sweden, Sri Lanka, Maui, Maine, Yellowstone, the Grand Tetons, and plenty of time in the beautiful Adirondacks. The Adirondack Preserve, if you’re not familiar with it, is a NYS forest preserve covering more land than Yellowstone, Yosemite, and the Grand Canyon combined – perhaps New York’s best idea ever and a treasured retreat only 1 hour from the farm. The mountains provided a chance to “deeply relax and sink into the wilds, swimming its waters, breathing with its trees, and sleeping under its stars.”

Then came Fall, an early winter deep in snow, the long series of gray days that cover this part of the valley with low, wet Lake Ontario clouds for weeks at a time. You all gonna get back to farming? Each asked themselves this question in different forms and iterations over the course of a deeply enjoyable sabbatical year. And each one seems to have come to the same conclusion: “We are resoundingly, emphatically ready to get back to growing.”

With a chance to reflect, to reorganize each of their farm roles, and to optimize their farm experience, all three are refreshed and looking forward to the upcoming season. They are also all the more clear-eyed about their farming career path: each one feels “that there is no other career we would rather pursue, and also we’re not ready for retirement!” What’s more, CSA sign-ups are running apace and they appear to be on target for 85% retention, which has been their target for many years now.

How ya gonna keep ‘em down on the farm after they’ve seen Paree’? Maybe the answer is that sometimes you need to go see Paree to know how much you love being down on the farm. The radical leap these folks made might not be possible for all of us, but maybe there are ways we can all think of to create mini-sabbaticals within our farm lives (a week off in the summer? some 3-day weekends? a harvest day or two where you just trust the crew can get it done without you?). These getaways can be critical to feeling good about all that the farm is. And if you have a situation where a full and well-deserved year off is a possibility, well, here’s a success story you can model on!

Jason Townsend is the owner of Kingfisher Farm, a certified organic vegetable and fruit farm near Utica, NY.  Kingfisher Farm is 12 acres of vegetables, orchard, small fruit, and a tree nursery marketing through CSA, farmer’s markets, and online sales.