Memoirs of a Farm Girl

Tears filled my eyes as I looked out upon those fields one last time. The memories came flooding back as the familiar wind hit my face.  I had stood before it for many a season, studying its needs and seeing its potential.  I had cared for it in foul weather, injury and illness.  It had me enveloped in its promise, engulfed its beauty.  I was mesmerized with wonder the way a mother stares at her young.  Humbled by how much it gave and fascinated by its ever-changing faces. 

One autumn, I lost my first pregnancy.   I had been riding on a tractor all day trying to beat the winter weather.  There is nothing you can do to cause a miscarriage, but I knew in my heart that I couldn’t do both.  Not for a while.  And that reality changed my entire world.  That was the beginning of a long hiatus from farming, and the season of baby-growing. 

A year passed by and our daughter was born.  She spent the first 2 years of her life on this farm. I got engaged on the far side of its property, beneath the persimmon tree.  I watched many a deer graze upon its fruit and acorn.  I learned to hunt turkey and deer here.  How to keep honey bees.  How to operate a tractor and run a small farm enterprise.  Food preservation became a seasonal necessity and joy.   

My life was incredibly rich during that time.  Grieving the loss of the farm dream has come in stages.  I look back on it with a fond satisfaction knowing how much I gained.  And how much was sacrificed.  Still, I wouldn't change a minute of it.  Growing food still feels like home.

That's why I found myself deeply involved in helping other individuals grow food in town.  Thriving, beautiful, and manageable plots are where my energy has shifted.  Keeping my hands dirty and teaching others what I learned during my 6 years of veggie production had been a unexpected answer to a prayer for me.  I have found that the universe always listens to your heart's desire.