Everyone thinks they've got the perfect farm for us and you wouldn't believe me if I told you some of the stories about the crazy farms we've seen and the interesting people we've met. I'll have to write a book someday. We've been at this farm searching thing for so long that we know just what we're looking for and we know just which questions to ask. The first question is almost always about gas. If you live in Western Pennsylvania, chances are you're pretty familiar with Marcellus Shale. Farmers, you see, are all too familiar.
I'll save the rant and just say that the shale contains natural gas and is the latest target for energy development. Of course, there are two sides to this, but many believe the methods used to extract this gas, known as hydraulic fracturing or 'fracking', can have devastating effects on the land, water and health of those affected. (Have you seen Gasland?) We intend to grow food on a future farm so clean water and soil are extremely important to us. It is next to impossible to find land around here that hasn't already been drilled, doesn't have a lease signed to drill, or doesn't have surrounding neighbors who have drilled or intend to drill.
Usually, the conversation with a seller doesn't go much further once we ask them about drilling. If it does, we ask for the address and begin our research on Google Maps. In aerial views, we can see the surrounding areas and we can see the existing gas wells and future drilling sites. More times than not, those drilling sites are above the property in question, meaning that the water shed could be contaminated. What good is a farm if you can't, or are afraid to grow food on it? If we get through those steps and the farm still seems like a possibility, we continue further, but it usually doesn't get that far. We have seriously considered leaving the state and trying to find a place where these issues don't exist.
We have in our minds a dream of what our future farm could become. Our dream involves creating a community-oriented sustainable system and growing a little bit of everything. Every property is different and the land dictates what can happen on each particular farm. The land may be hilly, flat, open or wooded. A combination of all those things would be perfect. For us, there has to be a house, though we're not picky at all. The rest of the farm is much more important to us. Outbuildings like a barn and garage are a bonus. Already existing fencing and a pond or stream are even better. Is the size right? Of course, the cost per acre comes into the equation. We need to be able to determine whether or not we can make the farm pay for itself. And then there's the all important question...where would the wood-fired oven go? Each farm we look at encourages us to bend and give a little as we try to imagine the possibilities the land has to offer.
It is so rare to stumble upon a farm that has all of our dream components, including the gas issue. But recently, we did. We spent countless hours putting together proposals, spreadsheets and business plans, most of which were one-handed while nursing, soothing, or trying to entertain a teething, active, and almost-walking baby boy. We spent weeks on the edge of our seats, holding our breath. All of this, only to find out that we didn't get it. We were either outbid or we were second in line. We weren't dealing with the most upfront and honest person, so it's hard to know. Disappointing, to say the least. Maybe it wasn't meant to be ours.
While going though all of this, another possible farm opportunity presented itself. One that seems too serendipitous to ignore. After all, our entire farming career, however short it is, has been one serendipitous event after another, so it's worth paying attention to. It's hard to not feel that we're being steered or guided somehow by the universe. It feels like we're meant to be there and it's almost as if this farm needs us as much as we need it.
It's all ups and downs, this farm searching business. Mostly downs. We've been here before and we know not to get our hearts too involved...but it's hard. We learn more and more about ourselves each time we get this close to something. We're trying to let go and believe that whatever is meant to be will be, and that the right place will come easily. I know in my heart that we'll find it. Could we be close?
November 11, 2012
October 23, 2012
the real deal
The purpose of this blog is to chronicle our experiences and I would be upset with myself down the road if I left out major events in our lives. So, enough of the photos, the beach trip and the fluff. Here's the real deal. Here's what's really going on.
We left the farm because we were unhappy. I had been unhappy for quite some time but stayed pretty quiet about it here. I think we felt so lucky to be there, on that farm, that we didn't dare complain. It was a really tough time for me. So tough, that it began to strip me of who I am. Has that ever happened to you? You're so deep in something for so long that it just becomes the new normal. All of a sudden, one day you look in the mirror and wonder who you're looking at. Am I living life the way I want to teach my son to live?
Things started out great for us there. I had always wanted to have a baby and couldn't wait to experience pregnancy. I was so excited when I got pregnant and thought the happiness of a new baby would fix everything. But then things started to fall apart.
I was depressed and I felt like I was being robbed of the experience I so looked forward to for most of my life. Instead of enjoying the new life inside of me, I was worried about our future and the health of our unborn baby. I cried a lot. I used to call my mom from out in the field and just sob. She would say how sorry she was and that she wished she could just scoop me up and make it all better. I wished she could too.
Luckily, Zander was born healthy and perfect. We were happy and so in love with him but there was always a sense of dread as by now, Nate had become unhappy too and we feared the inevitable.
How could this be happening? This was supposed to be it. A place where we could finally put some roots down. We came to terms with reality and finally made the decision that we didn't want to live that way. We'd been in search of a happy and healthy place to farm and raise our family for five years and we deserved to find it. Zander deserved it. Our love for our new son inspired us to strive for true happiness. We've lived and worked with several people in those five years and we've learned so much. It's time, we decided, to find a place of our own. We've carried along this dream of ours for so long and it will wait patiently until we find the right place.
So, we left. We left the animals we loved and moved Zander away from the only home he knew. Now, we've been through some pain and heartache in this farming adventure of ours, but one of the hardest things I've ever done was watch the man I love walk away from the wood-fired oven of his dreams. That oven symbolized so much for him. His unborn son growing in the womb alongside him as he worked tirelessly to build it. His blood and sweat. The dream we shared of starting the business we spent so much time researching, planning and preparing for. Talk about heartache. It's as if a small piece of Nate was left behind, and I often wonder if he'll ever be the same.
Our friends and family were beyond supportive and that really helped. Even though it felt like we were leaving our entire world behind, the happiness and relief we felt once we'd left was proof enough that we'd made the right decision.
There will be another oven, on another farm for this family.
And so the search for a new farm began . . . again.
We left the farm because we were unhappy. I had been unhappy for quite some time but stayed pretty quiet about it here. I think we felt so lucky to be there, on that farm, that we didn't dare complain. It was a really tough time for me. So tough, that it began to strip me of who I am. Has that ever happened to you? You're so deep in something for so long that it just becomes the new normal. All of a sudden, one day you look in the mirror and wonder who you're looking at. Am I living life the way I want to teach my son to live?
Things started out great for us there. I had always wanted to have a baby and couldn't wait to experience pregnancy. I was so excited when I got pregnant and thought the happiness of a new baby would fix everything. But then things started to fall apart.
I was depressed and I felt like I was being robbed of the experience I so looked forward to for most of my life. Instead of enjoying the new life inside of me, I was worried about our future and the health of our unborn baby. I cried a lot. I used to call my mom from out in the field and just sob. She would say how sorry she was and that she wished she could just scoop me up and make it all better. I wished she could too.
Luckily, Zander was born healthy and perfect. We were happy and so in love with him but there was always a sense of dread as by now, Nate had become unhappy too and we feared the inevitable.
How could this be happening? This was supposed to be it. A place where we could finally put some roots down. We came to terms with reality and finally made the decision that we didn't want to live that way. We'd been in search of a happy and healthy place to farm and raise our family for five years and we deserved to find it. Zander deserved it. Our love for our new son inspired us to strive for true happiness. We've lived and worked with several people in those five years and we've learned so much. It's time, we decided, to find a place of our own. We've carried along this dream of ours for so long and it will wait patiently until we find the right place.
So, we left. We left the animals we loved and moved Zander away from the only home he knew. Now, we've been through some pain and heartache in this farming adventure of ours, but one of the hardest things I've ever done was watch the man I love walk away from the wood-fired oven of his dreams. That oven symbolized so much for him. His unborn son growing in the womb alongside him as he worked tirelessly to build it. His blood and sweat. The dream we shared of starting the business we spent so much time researching, planning and preparing for. Talk about heartache. It's as if a small piece of Nate was left behind, and I often wonder if he'll ever be the same.
Our friends and family were beyond supportive and that really helped. Even though it felt like we were leaving our entire world behind, the happiness and relief we felt once we'd left was proof enough that we'd made the right decision.
There will be another oven, on another farm for this family.
And so the search for a new farm began . . . again.
October 4, 2012
the beach
We went to the beach a few weeks ago for the first time since we started farming 5 years ago. We were never able to leave our animals, so going away was never an option.
We went to the island of Chincoteague, VA, where the wild ponies roam, and it was beautiful. We rented a house with a group of friends and had a great time. We saw the ponies and lots of other native wildlife, went to the beach, did some crabbing, got attacked by mosquitoes (twice), saw an amazing sunset and ate some great food.
Zander was in the midst of teething woes for the first few days of the trip but even then he had a blast. He loved the beach and played in the sand for hours. He got so upset when it was time to stop playing and go back to the house.
We loved spending time with friends and watching Zander experience it all.
We went to the island of Chincoteague, VA, where the wild ponies roam, and it was beautiful. We rented a house with a group of friends and had a great time. We saw the ponies and lots of other native wildlife, went to the beach, did some crabbing, got attacked by mosquitoes (twice), saw an amazing sunset and ate some great food.
Zander was in the midst of teething woes for the first few days of the trip but even then he had a blast. He loved the beach and played in the sand for hours. He got so upset when it was time to stop playing and go back to the house.
We loved spending time with friends and watching Zander experience it all.
October 3, 2012
September 29, 2012
fear and doubt
I can't do this.
That's the thought that ran through my head at 3am. I awoke to a whimper and the feeling of a very hot baby next to me in bed. The whimpering quickly turned into a full-on cry . . . and then screaming.
My baby had a fever.
I stood in the dark with my heart pounding, swaying and rocking my son. He was so uncomfortable that he wriggled and squirmed in my arms. He would drift off to sleep only to wake up and cry. I couldn't comfort him and I was scared. He'd had a low fever on and off for a few days but nothing like this. I'm pretty sure it was all teething-related but the dark and early hours have a way of bringing on the fear and desperation. It was hard to think through the screaming and I couldn't believe how stressed I was. To make matters worse, we were at the beach, away from home and without my tool kit of homeopathic remedies and herbs.
I can't do this.
I took a deep breath and tried to focus. Ok, maybe I can do this. I'm his mother and all he needs is for me to love him. He just needs to feel my arms around him and know I'm there. I sang songs and told stories. I tried to come off as being calm, despite the fear in my stomach. I wrapped us both in a blanket and stepped out on the balcony in the cool and salty night air. After a few hours of walking and rocking, he began to relax and finally fell asleep. I was relieved and exhausted. In the morning Nate took a photo of us, still asleep. (I would share it but my boob is hanging out.) In the photo, Z was sleeping with a smile on his face. No more fever and our baby was back to his bright, smiling self. And so was I.
We had made it through the first rough nighttime fever.
As I walk this unknown path of motherhood, there are times I doubt myself. Times I'm not sure if I can do it or if I'm doing it right. I sometimes feel like I don't want to do it at all. What I do know is that I have a love for this boy like no other and that I love being his mother.
Yep, I think I can do this.
That's the thought that ran through my head at 3am. I awoke to a whimper and the feeling of a very hot baby next to me in bed. The whimpering quickly turned into a full-on cry . . . and then screaming.
My baby had a fever.
I stood in the dark with my heart pounding, swaying and rocking my son. He was so uncomfortable that he wriggled and squirmed in my arms. He would drift off to sleep only to wake up and cry. I couldn't comfort him and I was scared. He'd had a low fever on and off for a few days but nothing like this. I'm pretty sure it was all teething-related but the dark and early hours have a way of bringing on the fear and desperation. It was hard to think through the screaming and I couldn't believe how stressed I was. To make matters worse, we were at the beach, away from home and without my tool kit of homeopathic remedies and herbs.
I can't do this.
I took a deep breath and tried to focus. Ok, maybe I can do this. I'm his mother and all he needs is for me to love him. He just needs to feel my arms around him and know I'm there. I sang songs and told stories. I tried to come off as being calm, despite the fear in my stomach. I wrapped us both in a blanket and stepped out on the balcony in the cool and salty night air. After a few hours of walking and rocking, he began to relax and finally fell asleep. I was relieved and exhausted. In the morning Nate took a photo of us, still asleep. (I would share it but my boob is hanging out.) In the photo, Z was sleeping with a smile on his face. No more fever and our baby was back to his bright, smiling self. And so was I.
We had made it through the first rough nighttime fever.
As I walk this unknown path of motherhood, there are times I doubt myself. Times I'm not sure if I can do it or if I'm doing it right. I sometimes feel like I don't want to do it at all. What I do know is that I have a love for this boy like no other and that I love being his mother.
Yep, I think I can do this.
September 26, 2012
another one for the scrapbook
Zander got to meet Joel Salatin at the Mother Earth News Fair! I'd say he looks pretty happy about that.
September 6, 2012
to zander ~ love, mama
You're 9 months old today!
You wake up every day with the biggest smile on your face. In fact, you smile all the time, at everyone. I wonder if you'll ever know how you make a person feel when you smile at them. It's just magical.
You are in constant motion these days and just yesterday, much to our surprise, you learned how to climb the stairs. You're already cruising around the room holding onto furniture and today you stood on your own for a few seconds. I'm preparing myself for you to be an early walker. You're growing so fast so I'm trying to soak in every moment. I love nursing you and watching you sleep.
Your favorite things right now are riding on Daddy's shoulders and playing chase with him. I love watching the two of you crawl around the floor. You chase him and he chases you. You laugh and squeal. My heart swells watching you both.
I'm sorry that the last few months have been so hard. We hated having to uproot you from the only home you ever knew but I think you know that we weren't happy there. It's been really hard for us but you've been amazing though it all. You're so adaptable and you make it impossible to be depressed about the situation because after all, we have you.
We promise that whatever it takes, we're going to make our farm dream come true.
Happy 9 months, little one. You've captured our hearts.
You wake up every day with the biggest smile on your face. In fact, you smile all the time, at everyone. I wonder if you'll ever know how you make a person feel when you smile at them. It's just magical.
You are in constant motion these days and just yesterday, much to our surprise, you learned how to climb the stairs. You're already cruising around the room holding onto furniture and today you stood on your own for a few seconds. I'm preparing myself for you to be an early walker. You're growing so fast so I'm trying to soak in every moment. I love nursing you and watching you sleep.
Your favorite things right now are riding on Daddy's shoulders and playing chase with him. I love watching the two of you crawl around the floor. You chase him and he chases you. You laugh and squeal. My heart swells watching you both.
I'm sorry that the last few months have been so hard. We hated having to uproot you from the only home you ever knew but I think you know that we weren't happy there. It's been really hard for us but you've been amazing though it all. You're so adaptable and you make it impossible to be depressed about the situation because after all, we have you.
We promise that whatever it takes, we're going to make our farm dream come true.
Happy 9 months, little one. You've captured our hearts.
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| photo by Andy Johanson |
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| photo by Andy Johanson |
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| photo by Andy Johanson |
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| photo by Andy Johanson |
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