I’ve been thinking about the content of this post for a
while now. You see, the purpose of this blog was to document our transition from an urban lifestyle to our chosen farming
utopia. But for the last couple of
months, the place has felt like a farm, and I feel like a farmer. I had trouble saying and owning “I’m a farmer”
at first, but not anymore. There is dirt
under my nails constantly, I have no clean clothes and I spend a significant
proportion of my time on my hands and knees in the soil with an achy back. I mean, that’s the true measure of a farmer,
right? Now, I’m not naïve enough to
think the transition is complete but living in suburbia feels like a distant
memory and we are immersed in rural life.
And so, I will continue to blog about this lifestyle and what’s going on
with the farm, but with the acknowledgment that ‘stage one’ is done.
I thought that this time I would talk about our
relationships; with each other, with the land and with farming. I suppose I’ve already touched on my
relationship with farming. I can barely
remember a time when I wasn’t farming. I’m
also feeling way more confident about what I’m doing, not an expert, but
certainly able to muddle through and find the information I need to forge
ahead and make conscientious decisions. The other note about my
relationship with farming is how it has become my greatest act of feminism to
date. Ironically, I worked most of my previous
career in social care and the nonprofit sector and considered myself somewhat
of an activist. However, I believe I’m
making more of an impact as a feminist now and it’s completely unintentional. When I’m asked what I do, and I reply that I
am a farmer, I can see many people struggle with that. They can deal with ‘homesteader’ or ‘farmers
wife’, but that fact that I am the farmer pushes
people. The next stage in their acceptance
is when I talk about growing herbs and veg.
People can imagine me pottering around a small garden with a few carrots
and some rosemary growing but when I start talking about acres and pigs and
sheep and chickens; well, it’s just too much for some and their disbelief is
tangible. I’m sure that when I’m fully
healed from my career in social care, I will relish that fight, but right now I’m
still not ready for any cause.
Our family is flourishing.
Ian and I are spending more time together than ever before, granted it’s
usually working on the farm after he’s been at work all day and I’ve got the
kids to bed but at least it’s time, and quality time at that. Not sitting in front of a mind numbing TV
program, but working together and talking about our future. Our marriage feels lighter, easier, raw;
strange descriptive words for a relationship but appropriate, I think. Definitely better, happier, easier.
As I write this, the children are swinging on the hammocks
outside and playing Frisbee, and the sound of their laughter is joyful. My girls are 14 and 6 years old so it’s
refreshing to see what’s happening with them and how they’re bonding more. Lauren is still the internet obsessed
teenager but has softened since we came here.
She has joined 4H, which is a rural-based group that focuses on self-development
and leaderships for kids and teens. I
can’t help believe that her change is partly due to moving away from the ‘burbs
and mixing with different people. Their relationship as sisters has grown. I think the fact that we have been so busy has
forced us to become more reliant on each other, and that’s a good thing, it has
strengthened all of our relationships.
Of course, as I talk about family relationships, I should
really talk about our animal family. The
baby chicks have become obnoxious teenagers who peck my feet at every
opportunity. This is a relationship that
will be tested. We have at least two
roosters that we know of and we can’t have boys in the hen house. So, the boys are destined for the pot. Generally, you can kill a chick for meat from
7 weeks onwards. Well, they are 7 weeks
but still very small so wouldn’t make much of a meal. I think we will leave them until they are
about 20 weeks but this is the first kill challenge we will have. As I enjoy watching them grow and become more
confident, I have one eye on the calendar and have a sense of trepidation about
their fate.
The same goes with the sheep
that arrived about a month ago. The
lambs are for meat and this is another animal we will slaughter and butcher
ourselves (at least that’s the plan). I
feel less bothered about this. I’ve been
very involved with the chicks, they hatched here on the farm and I watched them
pop their little heads out of their eggs.
But the sheep are way more independent.
We haven’t had them since birth and I barely see them. They are totally independent; all I do is
water them. Also, the little ram is
becoming rather rambunctious. He tries
to butt us regularly and we had to fence off a little area so we could safely
walk through the gate to the chicken nursery without being harassed by the
little bugger! I don’t think we’ll have
too much trouble putting him to an end.
The pigs arrive soon.
We have managed to source pedigree pigs for meat. They won’t be processed here. We have other people who want to buy into the
pigs. If the meat is for public
consumption, it has to be processed at an approved plant. I’ve read a lot raising pigs and we’re
looking forward to their arrival. Let’s
see if I still feel excited after they’ve been here a couple of weeks, there is
going to be eight of them to care for and, errr, manage?!
My final relationship that I want to touch on is with
customers. I’m recognizing an increased
need for patience. No offence to a
majority of the people who buy and appreciate our produce, most of you are
wonderful people. Now you would think
that I would have practiced patience when working with vulnerable teenagers in
my previous life. But the thing is you
expect challenges with that client group.
Recently, someone inquired about the cost of the salad we are
selling. I told her it’s $4 a box. Bear in mind that it is organic, grown from
non-GMO seed and much cheaper than the same amount at the grocery store. It’s also much fresher. Anyway, this customer agreed to a purchase
but with a few choice comments about farmers getting rich and some suggestion
that I should cram as much as possible into the box to ensure she gets good
value. At that moment, I had to exercise
self-control. But I also had to reflect
on her reaction. Sometimes, as
consumers, it feels as if we pay a lot for food. Lettuce – it’s really just water in a green
casing. And eggs – what could possibly
be the cost of having a chicken do what it does naturally, how do we justify $5
a dozen? It made me realize that people
have no idea what farming involves and the cost associated with it. This is not a ‘get rich quick scheme’ for us;
it’s not even a ‘get rich eventually scheme’.
Don’t worry, I’m not about to bore you and lament about how hard we
work, or the cost of fuel or feed prices.
I’m not going to justify what we charge for produce. Buy it, or don’t. Chose local, or not. Enjoy organic, or don’t. Opt for ethical, or don’t. It’s up to you. I’m not going to compromise my relation with
the land, or my product, to reduce cost.
Our food choices here are based primarily on what I want to feed my
family, and that’s not going to change.
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