agriculture – Rooted & Resilient

Rooted & Resilient | by Marisa Herzer

Pay Attention

As humans, we are born into this world often raised to hone in on obvious senses such as sight, sound, touch, taste. Our parental figures do their best to guide us through the early years of our lives, showing us what they know in the ways they understand those truths. Often, though, there are some things that slip through the cracks and it is not until later in one’s life that these ‘missing pieces’ are discovered and cultivated.

Through necessity of survival, the most obvious skills become the first ones to learn: how to identify common threats through sight, how to feel around the world to keep oneself safe, how to smell or taste food that may not be the safest to eat.. but something like intuition comes later, after the baby grows and learns the basics of living in this human realm.

There’s a phrase I often hear when people talk about farmers, ranchers, horsemen and others who spend their lives close to the land. “They just know…,” when the rain is coming; when an animal isn’t feeling well, when crops are struggling or when something just feels “off.” For some time, I assumed this kind of ‘knowing’ was intuition – and maybe it is. However, the more time I spend studying agriculture and the natural world, the more I wonder if intuition is not as mysterious as it is often made out to be.

Mailbox standing in a grassy field at a Texas homestead, symbolizing stewardship, observation, and a connection to the land.

Perhaps intuition is a skill, or a sense, that we just have not yet learned how to harness. What if intuition is simply the result of learning to listen, in a way that is quieter and deeper than what our ears can pick up on?

The Difference Between Looking and Seeing

Our modern lives teach us to move quickly, to rush from one responsibility to the next. This often disconnects us from the environments we inhabit and we only notice what demands our immediate attention.

Nature operates differently. The land rewards your observation and the more time we spend paying attention, the more patterns begin to emerge. It’s truly unbelievable how many patterns exist right before our eyes that we never notice until the moment we do.

You begin to notice which plants really thrive after a rainstorm, or where water naturally wants to flow. You’ll start to notice subtle changes in animal behavior or when the wind suddenly shifts. When seasons begin changing, you’ll know before the calendar tells you so. Over time, these observations accumulate into something that feels remarkably like intuition.

Intuition or Pattern Recognition?

I’ve begun to wonder whether many of the things we call intuition are actually the result of a relationship. Like the gardener who knows a tomato plant is struggling: they may not be guessing. Or the rancher who senses something is wrong with a herd of cattle: they may not be operating on instinct alone. The horseman who feels tension before a horse reacts may not possess a rare supernatural gift, either.

Young Nigerian Dwarf goat kids exploring their enclosure at Bent Oak Homestead, demonstrating observation, animal behavior, and attentive livestock stewardship.

Maybe these individuals have spent enough time in relationship with their craft that they recognize patterns others have not yet learned to see. This does not make intuition less meaningful, but does make it more accessible. As someone who carries an intense closeness with spirituality, this realization is important for me to share. For most of my life, I have viewed intuition primarily from a spiritual lens and still hold that dear to my heart.

Agriculture has opened a new window for me to peer through. The more time I spend observing plants, animals, weather patterns, and ecosystems, the more I see that what feels intuitive is often built upon thousands of small observations collected over time. This doesn’t take all the magic away for me, though, because I understand that in order to truly wield your abilities in this world, you must be present and carry intention with everything you do.

Before now, it has been challenging to communicate that being able to feel a deep sense of understanding of your own intuition is not reserved for a select few but can be developed through true presence.

Nature Listens Through Relationship

A fascinating lesson I continue to learn through agriculture is that not a single thing truly exists in isolation. Plants communicate with each other through chemical signals, and mycorrhizal fungi connect with their vast underground networks as we mentioned in our last post. The pollinators and flowers depend heavily on one another and the organisms in the soil transform organic matter into life sustaining nutrients.

Young beet plants growing in a raised garden bed at Bent Oak Homestead, showing healthy leafy growth and vibrant red stems.

Every place you turn to look, a healthy system is built through relationship. It is no surprise to me that people are no different. The more connected we become to something, the more information becomes available to us. This notion becomes more true every day that I’m blessed to wake up on the beautiful land that I steward.

The more time we spend in relationship with the land, the more the land begins to teach us. The question becomes, are we paying attention to what we are being taught?

The Stewardship of Attention

Through Frontier West, we know stewardship to be something practical. The water management, soil health, plant selection, livestock systems, infrastructure planning and more all begin with practical steps but more importantly: good stewardship begins long before any of these are implemented.

It can all be traced back to attention. Before we can truly improve a landscape, we must first understand it. Before solving any problem, we must first notice there is a problem to begin with. Before any resilient system can be designed, we must learn how the existing system already functions.

These same principles apply to our lives, where attention creates awareness, awareness creates understanding and understanding leads to better decisions. Simply put: these are the building blocks to a practical system that is stewarded with true presence and care.

Learning to Listen

Perhaps intuition is less about receiving answers from somewhere outside ourselves and starts with becoming fully present to what already exists around us.

The land, our bodies and our relationships are constantly communicating and the biggest question becomes not whether the information is available but if we are slowing down enough to truly hear it.

I wonder if intuition is another sense that we have neglected to develop, because modern life rarely asks us to practice it. We are taught to look, but not always to see. To hear, but not always listen… to move, but not always notice.

In comparison, the natural world operates differently: because the land rewards your attention, the animals reward your observation and relationships reward your presence. Over time, the mysterious begins feeling very familiar. Learning to truly listen may be one of the most resilient skills we can cultivate because it reconnects us with the systems that sustain.

A dirt road leads toward the horizon under a bright blue sky and glowing sunset, symbolizing alignment, direction, and growth on the journey toward an authentic life.

Maybe intuition was never a supernatural gift reserved for some but is a natural result of paying attention long enough to develop a relationship with something greater than ourselves. As nature shows us every day, resilience is created through relationship. Perhaps this is why the land is such a powerful teacher: it continually reminds us that understanding grows wherever attention and relationship are allowed to take root.

In a world that seems to constantly complete for our attention, learning where to place that attention may be one of the most important skills we can develop.

From the Desk of Marisa, The Agriculturist

Marisa holds a Bachelor of Science in Animal Science Production and a Master of Science in Agricultural and Consumer Resources from Tarleton State University.

Her journey into agriculture began with horses, but it grew into a much larger curiosity about the systems that sustain life. Studying physiology, nutrition, behavior, land, and agricultural production revealed how deeply connected those systems are, and how much becomes possible when we understand how to work with them.

Today, her work centers on a simple belief that knowledge should leave people more capable.

Through Rooted & Resilient and Frontier West, Marisa explores how agriculture, regenerative design, tranditional knowledge, and modern science can help people understand the resources that sustain their lives. Food. Water. Land. Animals. Plants. Community.

Reslience is not about needing no one, but about developing the knowledge and confidence to provide where we can, contribute where we are able, and build stronger relationships of interdependence with the people and places around us. When people understand what they are capable of, they can begin building something larger than self-sufficiency. They can help make others capable, too.

The question behind her work continues to evolve:

How can what we learn today make someone more capable tomorrow?

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RR10: Why Agriculture?

There is a lot of truth in saying that I did not know what I was doing or where I was going in life for some time. I felt a calling toward horses, though I could not articulate why. Something about their energy and their ability to affect their surroundings impacted me long before I had language for it. Even before knowing about this feeling of being drawn towards something larger than myself, there was something keeping this calling close to my heart.

As a young woman approaching college, it was time to make a decision about where I would go next in life. When I began researching schools in Texas that offered Agricultural Programs and Equine classes, Tarleton State University in Stephenville, Texas stood out. It was well known in the area, and its proximity to where I grew up made the opportunity feel tangible and within reach.

Once I began learning more about schools that taught agriculture, something felt more genuine. This field of study felt closer to home, even though I grew up in the middle of the metroplex and had never stepped foot onto a farm. For a long time, I believed my city perspective would limit me. I thought success in agriculture required experience in 4H or growing up on a family farm. I did not have that background. What I did have was a deep understanding of what it meant to live in a city and depend entirely on infrastructure and systems that most people rarely question. I understood what it felt like to be surrounded by people while having little access to land or animals. That was my everyday life, and I could only imagine the world I would be exposed to once I left for college.

First person view looking down at a young plant growing from soil with boots visible, representing a hands on connection to agriculture and working the land — Sometimes the connection to agriculture begins with a simple moment of standing in the soil and feeling something larger than *you*.

There were seasons when I questioned whether I had made the right choice studying Agriculture. At one point I nearly changed my undergraduate major to Psychology because I wondered if focusing on people would feel more relevant or more aligned with long term success. Ultimately, I earned my Bachelor’s Degree in Animal Science Production. I spent years studying species and breeds typically raised in farm settings, including commercial agriculture. We studied reproductive systems, breeding processes, and the distinguishing characteristics of sheep, goats, cattle, chickens, pigs, and more. Horses remained a specialized area of study, often serving unique roles within agricultural systems.

As my studies progressed, I became increasingly interested in how animals are ideally cared for in both small and large operations and in the ethical frameworks that guide that care. Animals raised for production are part of a larger system, and it is the responsibility of an agriculturist to use as much of the animal as possible when harvested for consumption. This includes what many would consider miscellaneous uses, such as materials incorporated into makeup, chewing gum, toothpaste, alcohol production, and countless other industries. Labeling and marketing were also studied extensively. We were trained to interpret labels accurately and educate those unfamiliar with agriculture. During this time I began to understand how perception is shaped and how marketing often influences understanding.

It was then that I recognized a significant gap between what producers were doing to care for animals and land and what consumers believed about the industry. That gap stayed with me. What struck me most during that season of learning was how expansive agriculture truly is. It carries stewardship. It carries systems. It carries responsibility to animals, to land, to water, to families, and to future generations. The deeper I studied, the more I saw agriculture positioned at the intersection of biology, economics, psychology, policy, and human behavior. Few industries influence daily life so directly, yet many people remain disconnected from the systems that sustain them.

Rooted & Resilient explores the connection between land, the people who grow food, and the communities it sustains.

Over time, I understood that translation was needed. There had to be someone willing to speak both languages, the language of agriculture and the language of the everyday consumer, with clarity and integrity. That realization shaped my graduate path. After completing my Bachelor’s degree, I knew I was not finished. I pursued a Master of Science in Agricultural and Consumer Resources because I had developed a passion for building a bridge between agriculture and the public.

Having grown up in the city, I understood the consumer perspective intimately. I also understood the reality of the industry I had invested years learning. Graduate school expanded that perspective further. I studied how farmers adapt to new technologies, examined the psychology of learning and the willingness of different groups to embrace change, and explored how to advocate for agriculture and for people in ways that promote understanding rather than division.

Even after earning my Master’s degree, I still found myself waking up and wondering where I was going with my career and with my life. My professional experience ranged from food handling and manufacturing to generating nutrition labels for small businesses. As I moved into broader manufacturing industries, I began to recognize how applicable agricultural knowledge truly is across sectors. The systems thinking, the regulatory awareness, the production planning, and the ethical considerations extend far beyond the farm.

Throughout that time, I realized something important about myself. I am not wired to collect information for the sake of collecting it. I am wired to apply it. Education, for me, was meant to help people think differently, plan thoughtfully, and operate with confidence. Consulting became a natural extension of that belief. It allows me to equip families, landowners, and organizations with clarity before they make decisions that will shape decades of their lives.

When I look at the current state of our world, including rising food costs, unstable supply chains, political volatility, and growing distrust in institutions, I feel a renewed sense of purpose. Many people sense that independence matters, yet the pathway toward it often feels overwhelming. Property ownership, food production, thoughtful planning, and multigenerational stability require structure and foresight. They require someone willing to look at the full system rather than a single moving part.

It has become my mission to transfer the skills and experience I have gained to the public through blog posts, educational resources, and consulting services offered alongside my husband, a civil engineer. Together, we aim to participate in this new frontier by providing grounded strength and practical clarity. My work focuses on tangible benefits for clients who need guidance and structure.

As an Agricultural Consultant, I provide clarity in areas that often feel complex. Many families purchase land with excitement but without a comprehensive systems plan. I help clients evaluate water sourcing and management, soil quality and land capability, livestock feasibility, orchard design, infrastructure placement, and order of implementation based on long term function. I work with families to design property use that supports aging parents and growing children, align agricultural production with family capacity, and create sustainable food systems that can scale over time.

For Texas landowners, understanding exemptions, documentation, stocking rates, and compliance standards can feel intimidating. I help property owners navigate these systems in ways that are organized, ethical, and aligned with their goals. Agriculture continues to evolve, and from facility layout optimization and feed management to recordkeeping structures, label compliance, and production planning, I help operations improve efficiency while maintaining integrity.

Perhaps most importantly, I serve as a translator. I work with urban families entering rural life, businesses seeking alignment with sustainability, consumers desiring transparency, and producers seeking clearer communication. The gap between agriculture and the public can be addressed with thoughtful dialogue and informed guidance.

Choosing Agriculture was never only about animals. It was about understanding the foundation of civilization. Over time, I came to see that this path prepared me to stand at the intersection of land, people, systems, and truth. Agricultural Consulting allows me to help others navigate that intersection with clarity.

In a world that feels increasingly unstable, I believe independence deserves intention.

This is the path I choose.

Written By

Marisa Herzer

I am an Agricultural Consultant, writer, and co-founder of Frontier West with a background in Animal Science Production and Agricultural and Consumer Resources. My work is rooted in helping people understand the systems behind land, food, sustainability, and long term independence.

Through Rooted & Resilient, I share practical guidance, reflection, and education for those seeking a more grounded, thoughtful relationship with the land and the life they are building.

Rooted in sustainability. Resilient in life.