Patio Pondering The Written Collection
What started as my daily coffee-and-keyboard ritual has grown into a collection of reflections on agriculture, leadership, and rural life.
From quiet mornings on my backyard patio to the lessons learned in barns, fields, and boardrooms — these writings capture the stories, ideas, and questions that keep me curious.
Take a moment to explore, and maybe you’ll find a thought or two that sparks your own reflection.
Clear thinking for complex agriculture. I’ll send a note when it’s worth sharing.
Scroll down to discover the stories and reflections from the patio.
𝐏𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨 𝐏𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐈’𝐦 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈𝐧𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐝
My coffee this morning is not as satisfying as usual.
Maybe it’s the weather and the incoming rain; maybe it’s the midnight text that still lingers in my mind.
Or maybe it’s the slow surfacing of thoughts I’ve wrestled with for months.
𝐈’𝐦 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐝.
I know the data they’re using is wrong; but I’m not getting involved.
I know the truth about the interaction; but I’m not getting involved.
I have a solution; but I’m not getting involved.
I was in a conversation where I could’ve told the truth; but I’m not getting involved.
We’re supposed to be a “team”; but I’m not getting involved.
We’ve been friends for over twenty years; but I’m not getting involved.
Where do we draw the line in the sand?
When do we speak up: for truth, for integrity, for our relationships?
Have we become so focused on self-preservation that we’ve forgotten how to get involved when it matters most?
This morning, the coffee just tastes… muted.
Maybe because my conscience isn’t.
𝐏𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨 𝐏𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐜 𝐈 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐨𝐭
Some of you know that when I am home, I make my own salads for lunch. And not the dump-a-bag-of-lettuce-and-drench-it-in-ranch kind. I start from scratch—olive oil, vinegar, fresh garlic, a little sugar—then layer in vegetables and meat until it feels like a masterpiece. Since it’s made from scratch, no two are exactly alike.
Today, something was off.
The texture was good, the crunch was there, but the flavor did not hit right. After a few bites, I figured it out: I forgot the garlic. And the sugar. The base was missing. The part that sets the whole thing up.
Then it hit me again.
While making my salad, I had been on the phone with a friend. It was a deep, intense conversation—the kind that pulls you in and stirs your thoughts. And in the middle of that meaningful conversation, I skipped the most essential part of my routine: crushing the garlic.
Some days, we can multitask just fine. Today wasn’t one of them.
It made me wonder: how often do we miss the base layer in our work or relationships because we’re distracted—even by something important? How often do we forget the garlic?