🌎 June 2026 – No Expectations

Posted June 21, 2026

Big events have occurred over the previous month, and some of them have reminded me of the importance of having no expectations. Obviously we plan for the future and do our best to smooth the road ahead, but some things are simply out of our control, while others are decisions we must live with. Heydi, Tonantzin, and I took a weekend trip across the border to Panama—a trip we'd been planning for years. While we were away, a situation we'd been dealing with alongside our partners at Patos Suertudos reached a breaking point. This coming week my mother will be flying into Costa Rica, and we're facing the final stretch before our baby is due around the first week of August.

Cerro Punta is a small town on the slopes just below the iconic Volcán Barú. It's the last peak we can see along the Talamanca mountain range, which is visible from the highest points on our farm. For years I lived in Costa Rica as a "perpetual tourist," leaving and re-entering the country every three months to stamp my passport. During those years I got to know the highlands on the other side of the border, and it's a place I've always spoken of fondly.

Heydi recently received her Costa Rican residency. Prior to that, every time she left the country she had to reapply for a visa in order to return—a process that typically took about two weeks. It didn't matter that she was already in line for residency; every departure meant starting the visa process again. From the beginning, I promised her that once she received her Costa Rican I.D., we'd celebrate with a trip to Panama.

We visited my friends who run a flower garden and café in Cerro Punta. I hadn't seen Amet and his family in over six years. Ever since my residency process began, I no longer needed to make my regular jaunts to Panama. It was a fun time as usual as we jammed on his guitars as if our last session were only yesterday. We also took advantage of the trip for a special act of "guerrilla gardening." We managed to sneak a tree across the border and planted it on our friend's property.

It wasn't just any tree—it was the elusive white sapote (Casimiroa edulis). Two years ago, during a trip to California, I found white sapote at a farmer's market in my mother's neighborhood in Los Angeles, a fruit I'd been searching for in Costa Rica for years. I smuggled the seeds back and managed to germinate five of them. Four were planted on our farm last year, but only one survived, and it's currently struggling. During my research, I discovered that white sapote prefers cooler climates and porous, well-draining soils. Cerro Punta matches that description perfectly, sitting at around 1,900 meters above sea level with rich black volcanic earth.

In contrast, our soil is still laden with red clay. Since we've been practicing permaculture at La Floresta, the quality of the soil has improved significantly, but some areas remain distinctly reddish-brown. Just over an hour away in Cerro Punta, the composition of the earth is completely different. Even many areas of Coto Brus, closer to the border, have much darker volcanic soils. Panama is so close geographically, yet it often feels much further away because of the international border.

We were hoping for a quiet weekend away, which we mostly had, but on the last day we received notice from Patos Suertudos that our partnership would be terminated. It caused some turbulence during our mini holiday, but we were still able to enjoy our final evening near the Caldera hot springs despite the troubling news. Only a week earlier I had been boasting on Facebook about our partnership with them and how proud I was of completing a year of selling products at the San Vito market.

Our misunderstanding with Patos Suertudos highlights the importance of keeping good records. Thankfully, we'd been tracking all of our sales, though we never expected to have to show them to anyone. Last week I compiled all of our handwritten reports into a spreadsheet to track every transaction. What initially seemed like a daunting task turned out to be quite satisfying, and now our records are neatly organized and easily accessible.

Nevertheless, the confusion stemmed from what we were being billed for. The total sales we calculated matched the money Patos Suertudos claimed to have received from us. That part was reassuring and made me feel good about the efforts Heydi and I had put in despite our limited experience. The issue was partially that we were apparently being billed for some special holiday chocolates that had been given to us but never sold--and which we'd never asked for. In fact, the situation is still being resolved, and we're continuing to examine the numbers to determine whether we still owe Patos Suertudos anything. According to our records, we've paid them for everything we sold.

Yesterday we returned all of our remaining Patos Suertudos products. They have another vendor who will continue selling them. I genuinely wish them success in their venture. In many ways, the timing is probably appropriate because Heydi and I will soon need to focus entirely on our incoming baby. We likely won't be attending the market for at least several weeks. Patos Suertudos products represented roughly a third of our inventory and sales. It's certainly a significant change. On the other hand, yesterday may have been the day we offered the greatest variety of fruits from our own farm. It felt as though the farm itself was stepping up to support us at exactly the right moment.

We had lemon-drop mangosteens (Garcinia intermedia), snake fruits (Salacca zalacca), Amazonian grapes (Pourouma cecropiifolia), abiu (Pouteria caimito), araza (Eugenia stipitata), limequats (Citrus × floridana), a small high-quality jackfruit (Artocarpus heterophyllus), and an heirloom pineapple.

We need to keep our heads up because big things are approaching quickly. Rolling with the punches and enjoying the moments we're given is the only way to truly savor life. We can't allow our troubles to overshadow our blessings. Losing our partnership with Patos Suertudos, coupled with facing several weeks of little or no income while waiting for the baby, might make our recent trip to Panama seem frivolous or even irresponsible. For a moment, I actually hesitated about going. But the truth is that if we hadn't taken advantage of that opportunity, the next chance might have slipped away indefinitely. For example, we'd spent two years saving money because we planned to visit Brazil this year. I haven't seen most of my extended family there in over sixteen years. The baby changed those plans, and I was only one decision away from canceling our promised celebration trip to Panama as well.

Yet if we have the means, then no matter what else is happening in life, sometimes we need to invest in what's closest to our hearts—and that is family. The memories we made during our short trip to Panama are priceless. We even got to plant a tree.

As for what's coming next, perhaps it's best to have no expectations—while remaining mentally prepared for anything, if that's even possible.