Do.

A non-comprehensive list of things the Farm School taught me how to do, in no particular order:

Steer a team of horses through a forested road in the fall,
Fell a tree,
Use a chainsaw,
Carry 50-pound crates of onions,
Water hundreds of delicate baby plants in minutes,
Transplant tomatoes in knee-deep mud and rain,
Build a brooder house,
Spray-wash the inside of a mobile chicken coop,
Get shocked by electric fences,
Bottle-feed tiny lambs,
Respectfully open a beehive,
Cut open a frozen round bale in hip-deep snow,
Prune apple trees,
Shear an uncooperative sheep,
Park a water cube trailer in a snowstorm,
Weld two pieces of metal together,
Recognize weeds and pick them out of the salad mix,
Cook pizza for 30 hungry farmers,
Hoe a large field in 90 degree heat and sun,
Drive a tractor,
Tap maple trees,
Save seeds,
Pick rocks while singing,
Build a cob oven,
Eat corn fresh off the stalk,
Push an Earthway seeder through rocky soil,
Wipe out a tired bed with a BCS,
Mourn a dying world while fighting to save it,
Install high-tensile fencing,
Delight in field-fresh strawberries,
Milk a cow,
Eat mouthfuls of braising mix without crying (too much),
Can tomatoes and apple sauce,
Pick green beans while safely watching a partial solar eclipse,
Catch a baby calf,
Appreciate the strange beauty of an asparagus plant,

and

Love doing all the above.

(Except maybe the part about the electric fences. Silly electric fences.)

In gratitude,
Katherine