Our soils used to be dead. Now we have mushrooms growing down the rows with our crops. It’s a whimsical nod to the soil health we’ve worked so adamantly to build since we took over farming from Korey’s dad, Randy, in 2012.

My soils were on the verge of giving out on me when I finally made the switch to no-till. I’m a first-generation farmer.

I’m not afraid to listen to my kid. My dad, Dale, was a little more skeptical, but then again, skeptical is understandable — especially when it was his living that was on the line when my son, Brad, and I wanted to do a little experimenting

No-till is all I’ve ever known. The practice was developed just 2 hours south of us in Christian County, Ky. My dad and grandfather bought an Allis-Chalmers no-till planter in the 1980s. By the time I purchased my first piece of land as a sophomore in college it wasn’t even a thought to put a plow to it. It just wasn’t how we farmed

Efficiency drove our shift to no-till in 1999. The practice meant less fuel, fewer tractor passes and reduced man hours. For all other aspects of our operation, though, it was more, more, more.

Clair Armbrustmacher continues to advance his successful but somewhat solitary no-till system to include twin-row and cover crops.

I wanted to no-till. I would search out no-till planters online or in classified ads and just wish. But with only 240 acres, I just couldn’t justify the expense — at least not until a supportive friend stepped in.

I had hoped to raise 50 crops before I retired, but 48 is pretty darn close. 
The timing just seemed right at the end of 2021 to keep pushing for 50 crops on our Canton, Miss., farm. In 2019 we had reduced acres, letting all our rented ground go and just farming what we owned.