From Shoulder Pads to Muddy Boots
If you had told me forty years ago that one day I’d be writing about soil, I would have thought you were absolutely crazy.
A personal reflection by Lisa Rehnborg
I’m so glad you’re here.
You found your way to Acania, welcome.
Field Notes is a collection of stories, observations, questions, discoveries—and yes, occasionally a few muddy mishaps—from life on the farm.
Some will be written by me.
Others by members of our family.
Others by the remarkable people who care for this land every day.
No one here claims to have all the answers.
We’re simply paying attention.
Paying attention to the changing seasons…
To healthy soil…
To plants…
To wildlife…
To good food…
To each other.
Mostly, we’re learning as we go.
I certainly am.
If you had told me forty years ago that one day I’d be writing about soil, I would have thought you were absolutely crazy.
Back then I knew restaurants.
Not farming.
Certainly not soil.
My career had been spent in restaurants, starting as a hostess in high school and eventually managing them. Then, forty years ago, I moved back to Southern California to join my family’s nutritional supplement business, founded by my grandfather in 1934.
I had just turned thirty.
Suddenly I found myself dressed in one of those famous 1980s “lady suits”—remember the giant shoulder pads?—sitting in corporate meetings trying to absorb everything around me.
I was completely out of my element.
So I smiled.
I listened.
And I became a sponge.
There I sat around a large conference table with scientists, executives, and agricultural experts discussing…
dirt.
DIRT?
I remember thinking, Really?
I cannot tell you how many meetings over the years centered around dirt.
Of course, now I call it soil.
Looking back, I realize those conversations were quietly planting seeds that wouldn’t begin to grow until much later.
Over the years I heard countless discussions about soil health, minerals, farming practices, and plant nutrition. I found it all interesting, but I never imagined I’d someday be living on a farm, eager to learn everything I could about the remarkable world beneath our feet.
Today my life looks very different.
I’m retired from corporate life—although honestly, it never really felt like work. I loved the people I worked alongside every day, and I loved welcoming visitors from around the world.
Now life has taken me somewhere I never expected.
These days you’ll usually find me on our family farm.
I’m collecting eggs from chickens, learning about vegetables I’d never even heard of before, asking endless questions, and finding myself right back where I started…
with soil.
Well…
…and chickens.
The other women on the farm gracefully step over the chicken fence like they’ve been doing it their whole lives.
Me?
I’m usually crawling through it while trying to balance a bucket of feed in one hand, an egg basket in the other, and somehow avoid stepping on the chickens that insist on gathering around my feet.
Let’s just say I’ve accidentally stepped on a few tiny chicken toes.
I’m still apologizing.
Farm life has a wonderful way of keeping a person humble.
But it also has a wonderful way of reminding you that there is always more to learn.
I’m not a scientist.
I’m not a farmer.
I’m simply curious.
My Field Notes aren’t meant to be lessons from an expert. They’re simply observations from someone learning alongside an incredible team of people who know far more than I do.
Sometimes I’ll write about chickens.
Sometimes vegetables.
Sometimes conversations around the kitchen table.
Sometimes conversations with scientists.
Sometimes a muddy pair of boots.
And sometimes we’ll dig into the remarkable world beneath our feet.
My hope is that these Field Notes leave you just a little more curious than you were before.
They’ve certainly done that for me.
Because after all…
Everything starts with soil.
Until next time,
— Lisa
