
Building Community, One Baler at a Time
Last week, I had the chance to help out a friend and neighbor with some of his farm equipment. It wasn’t a big job in the grand scheme of things, but it meant a lot to both of us—and it reminded me why I moved out here in the first place.
The machine in question was a John Deere 353 round baler—a sturdy, reliable piece of equipment used to make those massive round hay bales you see dotting the fields in late summer. These bales can weigh up to 1,500 pounds each, tightly wound bundles of nutrition that will keep livestock fed through the cold months. But before the baler could do its job for the coming season, it needed a little TLC.

So we got to work. The pickup teeth needed replacing, a worn-out belt had to be swapped, and there was some general metal work to be done—greasing parts, checking for fatigue, tightening bolts. It was straightforward mechanical maintenance. Nothing too fancy, but important nonetheless.


I’ll be the first to admit—I’m no certified mechanic. I’ve picked up what I know through years of watching, asking questions, getting my hands dirty, and learning by doing. And if there’s one thing I’ve discovered along the way, it’s this: you don’t always need to be an expert to be helpful.
More often than not, people don’t care if you have all the answers. What they really appreciate is honesty, a willingness to learn, and a genuine desire to help. That’s what builds trust. That’s what turns neighbors into friends.
When I moved out here, one of my personal goals was to build something stronger than just a house or a property—I wanted to build community. The kind of community that existed a hundred years ago, when neighbors didn’t think twice about showing up for each other. A time when the strength of your community was measured by how quickly people came together in times of need—and how often they laughed together when the work was done.

Helping others—whether it’s lifting a heavy part, lending a tool, or simply showing up—is how I try to live that out. Every task, every favor, every shared project is a brick in that foundation.
Working on that baler last week wasn’t just about fixing a machine. It was about showing up, being present, and reinforcing the kind of life I want to live out here. A life where people matter more than convenience. Where help is given freely, and gratitude comes in the form of shared coffee, dusty handshakes, and the quiet satisfaction of a job well done.
Because out here, that’s what matters. And to me, that’s worth every minute.