I remember years ago when I first started naturalmommie.com. Back then my about me page said something like “I don’t exactly have chickens running around the backyard…but maybe one day…”
Well, here we are. At that one day.
It’s always been a dream to live on a farm and raise my little boys surrounded by trees with room to roam. A place to run wild where they didn’t have to be conscious of a perfectly manicured sidewalk. Where they could do what boys should do without raised eyebrows and without worrying about playing and yelling too loud in the backyard because the neighbors are eating their dinner 7 feet away.
I grew up in the sticks. A tiny little rural community on a farm with cows and horses roaming behind our house. Hours upon hours were spent collecting tadpole eggs in ice-cream buckets from the marsh, chasing my jelly sandals down the swirly brook, watching calves being born, counting fireflies, seeing my sister riding her pony for the first time and laughing at our little farmdog, Lady, getting fat from lapping up the cows milk when nobody was looking.
But nowdays, living the country life while being just minutes outside the city means a million dollar price tag. Not exactly attainable. So, while I prayed for the “perfect” place for our family, my husband kept an eye out for new listings and the day after our latest “I reeeeally want to move to the country” conversation, a 20 acre farm fell into our lap.
There was drive after drive to the farm with lots of discussions about renovating the 1940’s farmhouse or building a new one, subdividing the 20 acres or keeping them, what type of fencing would we build and ah! would we need a gun?… all those questions and none yet with a concrete answer, we decided the details could be worked out along the way.
And so we bought it.
Everytime we drive to the farm it’s a certain sense of peace; a calmness. Everyone breathes a little slower. Deeper. It just feels right. That’s not to say this hasn’t been a bit of a scary process. Having to sell our almost brand new home to move into a smaller, run down farmhouse with one little bathroom is daunting. The night we put our house up for sale I was in tears after thinking about what we were willing to give up for an old farm.
An eco-friendly tankless hot water tank for a well? A walk-in closet for…no closet? A huge soaker tub for a baby pink toilet and tub? Three living rooms for one? What about our playroom? What about our home-gym? What about our walk-in pantry? What about our heated garage?
When it comes down to it? None of it really matters.
We need space. A big garden. Wild flowers. Fresh air. Enormous trees to build forts in. A place where my boys can get dirty, kick their boots off in the mud room and cozy up next to a fire. The real kind.
Fresh eggs (eventually). A huge porch for a swing to rock on next to my husband while holding hands and listening to the sounds of nature. Big evening fires in the backyard all summer long.
Falling asleep to the sound of coyotes and owls. Wooden barn floors. Nooks and crannies to explore, poke through, and build stories around.
It’s actually quite perfect.
And of course every farm needs a name. Ours?