Starting a Farm at 18: Lessons from Cable Family Farm
Piedmont, North Carolina — a no-till market garden, mobile coops, and two young farmers building soil and a business at the same time.
I pulled up to Cable Family Farm on a cool morning, camera bag in hand, and met two steady, clear-eyed young men: Caden and Patrick. We were standing in what used to be nothing more than mowed weeds. Today it’s an organized patchwork of 30-inch-wide, 48-foot beds—straight lines, clean pathways, and a rhythm that only comes from repetition.
I filmed my visit for this week’s Regenaissance Farm Tour — you can watch the full conversation with Caden and Patrick now on our YouTube channel
“We started with no-till,” Caden said, “and learned fast what didn’t work.” Cardboard blew away. Labor multiplied. So they pivoted to silage tarps to smother the sod, then laid four inches of compost to build beds, with wood chips in the walkways to suppress weeds and feed soil biology as they break down. That tiny set of choices (cover, compost, chips) is the quiet architecture of a farm that wants to build soil, not burn it.
The System Behind the Rows
What impressed me wasn’t just the method; it was the discipline. Every bed is the same size. Spacing is standardized. “That’s how we keep flips efficient,” Patrick told me (flip meaning harvest one crop, reset the bed, and plant the next.)
Weed control? Tarps are the “reset” button. Compaction? A broadfork (that simple, human-scaled tool that loosens soil without inverting it) before most flips. Over time, as organic matter accumulates and structure improves, they’ll need it less.
When I asked how they learned all this, they didn’t pretend there was a magic school. YouTube, books, mentors and failure. The usual honest curriculum of real agriculture.
What they grow (right now): Okra and cucumbers fading out, peppers and eggplant just pulled, beets and carrots coming in hot, plus the brassica parade such as cabbage, broccoli, kale, collards, bok choy, kohlrabi. It’s a year-round market garden, so the cast keeps changing.
They try not to leave a bed empty more than a day. Still, weather writes the schedule: a two-week rain forced them to pull ten beds of tomatoes early. That’s farming’s hardest truth—you can’t spreadsheet the sky.
Tools That Earn Their Keep
I’d never seen the Jang seeder up close. For carrots, it’s non-negotiable. With the right roller, they plant five tight rows per bed, seed every inch—roughly 3,000 seeds in 48 feet. You can’t transplant carrots; they need to emerge even and dense. In a market garden, precision is profitability.
The broadfork is the other star. No-till isn’t “never touch the soil”, it’s minimal disturbance with a plan. The fork keeps structure intact, biology undisturbed, and water moving in (during drought) and through (during deluge). You feel it underfoot: older beds drain well yet hold moisture longer. That’s what organic matter buys you, options!
Seed Starts, Built from Ingenuity
Their “greenhouse” started life as a carport. A few upgrades later, it’s a tidy nursery full of soil blocks and wind-strip trays. Some crops want tiny cells (onions), some need bigger blocks (broccoli, cabbage). They oversow, then plant out only the strongest starts. A simple, relentless routine: water, check germination, plan the next wave.
It’s not shiny, and that’s the point. Ingenuity over infrastructure. Work with what you’ve got, upgrade as you grow.
Eggs, Labels, and the Tradeoffs People Don’t See
We stepped over to the egg layers. Portable fence. Mobile coop. Rotations across a small pasture. Non-GMO feed from a local mill. Not certified organic.
Here’s where the internet arguments get loud; here’s where real life stays calm. Context matters. Organic feed would blow up costs and break the “local” part of the chain. So they choose a middle path: non-GMO, local, transparent, and pasture-centered. If they went organic on paper, your dozen eggs would jump a couple bucks overnight—and that decision can decide whether a small farm survives.
Are they “beyond organic” in practice? On soil and animal management, sure. But the organic label also demands paperwork and record-keeping that a three-person team can’t reasonably add while still expanding. This is the kind of nuance the grocery aisle never explains—but a farmer’s market conversation can. (That’s where they sell most of their food, and where skeptics turn into regulars.)
Broilers on Pasture (and Why Deep Bedding Matters)
On another paddock, we met their Cornish Cross broilers. The brooder runs a deep-bedding system—wood shavings that begin composting as birds add manure. It’s warmer (reducing energy inputs for heat), alive with microbes (training immune systems), and it sets birds up to thrive when they graduate to pasture. Out on grass they scratch, peck, and move daily. Less disease pressure, richer diet, better flavor, and a nutrient loop that keeps fertility where it belongs—in the soil.
It’s their first year doing broilers on this land, and it’s already changing the farm: new revenue, new skills, new responsibility. It’s also been a bridge back to family—Patrick told me it’s deepened his relationship with his grandfather, who once kept horses here. That’s the kind of return you won’t find on a QuickBooks report.
Seasons, Scarcity, and the Grocery Store Illusion
We talked seasonality and the “always-on” grocery store myth. At a real farm, frost lands like a period at the end of a sentence. Some crops disappear for a while. That’s not failure; that’s honesty. Eat with the year and you’ll eat better: food that matches the weather, grown when plants want to grow. The farmer breathes easier. The plate tastes brighter. Everyone wins—except the illusion.
Sprays, Soil, and “Shake the Hand That Feeds You”
We went there: sprays, pests, and the way internet discourse flattens complexity. Consumers imagine monocrops can just quit chemicals tomorrow. But row by row, farm by farm, change takes time, skill, and cash flow. Cable Family Farm is doing the hard part—building systems that reduce the need for rescue chemistry by making the ecosystem more resilient. That’s a long game with real costs. The surest way to know where a farm stands? Go talk to them. See the beds. Ask about their feed. Learn their rotations. Shake the hand that feeds you.
What I Learned from Cable Family Farm (and What You Can Use)
Start small, standardize everything. Same bed width, same length, same tools = fewer decisions.
Build, don’t burn, soil. Tarps to reset, compost to start, chips to buffer, cover crops to feed.
No-till ≠ no touch. Broadfork to loosen; protect structure and biology.
Precision pays. The right seeder turns a fussy crop (carrots) into a reliable income line.
Weather runs the farm. Plan, but keep your knees bent.
Ingenuity beats capital. Carport-to-greenhouse is the spirit of small farming.
Labels are blunt tools. Ask about practices; don’t outsource ethics to a sticker.
Context is king. Local, non-GMO feed may beat far-shipped “organic” feed in the real-world ledger.
Pasture is a teacher. Move birds, move manure, grow grass, grow flavor.
Markets are classrooms. Buy directly and you’ll learn more in ten minutes than in ten threads.
If You’re Local (or Local Enough)
Buy eggs and chicken first—those purchases compound soil and animal impacts fast.
Ask about what’s in season and plan your menu around it.
Pre-order carrots when you see the Jang rolling—respect the hustle.
If you’re starting your own plot: choose tarps over cardboard, invest in a broadfork, and resist tool fever.
Until next time, Viva La Regenaissance!
- Ryan Griggs
Founder, The Regenaissance