What A Week...

G'Day Folks,

Somehow—miraculously—we managed to get all but 15 veg boxes delivered to you all. The messages of support, the offers to donate veggie boxes to people who’ve lost everything, and the general outpouring of kindness reminded us of why we keep doing this. Thank you. Truly. We feel incredibly lucky to be part of a community like this.

Our hearts go out to those who’ve lost homes, animals, and loved ones. The floods were devastating. And the road to rebuilding—physically, emotionally, spiritually—will demand resilience most of us can barely imagine.

This is our sixth year on the farm. In that time, we’ve lived through the tail end of the worst bushfires in this country’s history. The worst floods our region had ever seen—first in 2021, and now again in 2025. And in between? A string of smaller floods. In fact, 2023 was the only year we didn’t exceed our annual rainfall average. It’s hard to even wrap our heads around.

For many small-scale veggie growers, this might be the end. Honestly, if we hadn’t already made the decision to sell the farm and take to the road, this season would have forced us to rethink everything—from what we grow to where we grow it.

In a climate this volatile, greenhouse growing might be the only way forward for many of the vegetables we love. But farmers are a stubborn, gritty bunch. They adapt. They dig in. They keep going.

On Sunday, once the highway reopened, I drove down to deliver boxes to Foster. Along the way, I saw a dairy farmer rounding up the last of his cows—his home clearly hit by floodwaters. Yet there he was, out there milking on a Sunday morning. I wish more people could witness scenes like that, especially when they complain about the price of milk.

Our farm, this time, was spared the worst of it. Unlike 2021, we had only minor flooding. No landslips. But the vegetables—already battered by months of wet weather—are slowly dying. Most will not survive. Most will return to the soil. Even some of what made it through were picked off by bower birds and feral deer. The damage is done.

So, over the coming month, most of our veg will come from farms outside this flooded region. But even that’s not simple—because to the west of us, and down south in parts of Victoria, farmers are facing some of the worst drought conditions they’ve seen in years. This country really is a land of extremes.

I’ve been speaking with some grower friends about 45 minutes from here. They grow many of the same crops we do (organically) —but under polytunnels, protected from this relentless rain. They’ve invested heavily in protected cropping and are expanding even further. Like us, they see it as the only viable path forward in a changing climate. If all goes well, they’ll start harvesting in four to five weeks—and we’ll be able to keep sourcing beautiful, LOCAL, organic produce for you.

Now more than ever, we need to back our local growers. They’re the bedrock of a resilient food system—one that’s being increasingly squeezed by consolidation and corporate control. If we keep losing small and medium farms, we’ll end up dependent on just a few major players for all our fresh food. That’s a dangerous place to be.

It’s also worth mentioning that the industrial agriculture sector is now turning its attention toward organic production. On the surface, that sounds like good news—less chemicals in our soil, our waterways, and our food. But the reality is more complicated. These large operations may skip the chemicals, but they don’t care for the soil the way a true organic farmer does. And it shows.

I can taste the difference. When I eat something from one of these big “organic” farms, the flavor just isn’t there. Sure, I’m avoiding pesticides—but I’m not getting the nutrients I would from something grown in rich, living soil.

If you’ve ever eaten one of Rod and Desley’s tomatoes from their market stall in Port Macquarie, you’ll know exactly what I mean. That burst of flavor? That’s what real soil-grown food tastes like. It’s what your body craves—what it remembers. They’ve battled the same rains we have. They’ve been hit by hailstorms. Yet they keep going. I admire their resilience deeply, and I’m grateful that, thanks to the community we’ve built with SoHip, we’ll still be able to share their beautiful produce with you when our own fields fall quiet.

Let’s keep showing up for each other. Let’s keep putting our money, our energy, and our care into the hands of the people who are growing real food, with real love, in the face of all this chaos.

Thank YOU for joining us on this epic journey & supporting Your local farmer!