Let me let you in on a little secret:

I took a beach vacation in June.

Yep. A real vacation. Beach chair, novel, sunscreen, cold drink kind of vacation.

We were in Bethany Beach, Delaware, soaking up the sun, and on Sunday, I stopped by the local farmers market. Of course I couldn’t resist chatting with the farmer at the Dittmar Farm stand. And like clockwork, the minute I told him I was a farmer in Baltimore County, he looked confused and said:

“Wait… if you’re a farmer, how are you here?”

I laughed. Because it’s such a common response. And I get it. Farming is demanding. It’s physical, it’s mental, it’s 24/7. Crops don’t care if it’s Sunday. Chickens don’t know you’re at the beach. And years ago, I believed I couldn’t take a vacation either. But you know what I told him?

“Because I’ve trained a great crew.

I work hard to get things to where I need them to be.

And yes—I’ll pay the repercussions when I get back.

But it’s worth it.”

You Can Take a Vacation Too

Here’s the truth:

Things can go wrong when I’m home, too.

I’ve had pumps fail while I was in the greenhouse.

I’ve watched weather wipe out beds I’d just seeded.

I’ve lost power while I was literally standing in the walk-in cooler.

So if things can still go sideways while I’m on-site, why not give myself permission to rest, refuel, and reset?

Because here’s what I’ve learned the hard way:

Burnout doesn’t make you a better farmer.

It just makes you less effective and more resentful.

It’s All About Mindset

The biggest hurdle isn’t logistics—it’s mindset.

You have to believe you’re allowed to take time away. That the world won’t fall apart if you miss a few days. That your worth isn’t tied to how many hours you put in.

When you start from that mindset, everything else starts to shift.

👉 You start documenting your systems.

👉 You train your crew with more intention.

👉 You plan ahead with breaks in mind, not as an afterthought.

👉 You accept that perfection isn’t the goal—sustainability is.

Let’s be real. I’m not laying on the beach pretending my farm doesn’t exist. I still check in. I still have to unclench a bit each day. But I’m catching up on a fun novel and practicing the fine art of doing nothing. My kids are here. My heart is full. My body is resting.

And that rest?

That’s the fertilizer my life needs to keep growing.

A Few Practical Tips to Make It Happen:

  • Train your team like they will be running the farm—because someday they will.

  • Start small—even a long weekend off-season is a win.

  • Automate where you can (timers, irrigation, recurring checklists).

  • Prep your customers if you need to close for a few days—they’ll understand.

  • Let go of guilt. You’ve earned this.

So if you’re a farmer reading this and thinking “must be nice,” I see you.

I was you.

But I want you to know:

It’s possible. It’s worth it.

And you deserve to have a life outside your boots.

Now, back to my book.

Cheers from the beach 🌊

—Lisa