A Farm Girl’s 401 on Farming

Life doesn’t always take us in the direction we want to go.

If you would have asked me twenty years ago what I wanted to do with my life I would have shared with you my dream of farming. I was young, but I had it all figured out.

Because it’s tradition for the first son (or only son) to inherit the trade or legacy of a father, I knew my brother would inherit all the farm stuff from our father. And, that was okay. I went to school and got my degree in accounting. I’ve been keeping the farm books since I was seventeen.

My plan was to work alongside my brother on the farm, I’d do the bookkeeping and care for the young cattle and he’d do the milking and we’d both raise our families.

Sounded like a great plan right?

Maybe you’ve seen those commercials lately for the farmer match maker dating site: Farmersonly.com (note: I have no affiliation with this site, I’ve just watched their commercial on Television one night.)

That’s how I saw my life. Living on or close to the farm, working the land, tending the animals, and marring a handsome farmer.

As the daughter of a dairy farmer , naturally, I assumed I’d become a farmer’s wife.

Then I fell in love with a mathematician.

IM000378.JPG
              My other half

Do you hear life laughing at me?

Not only did I marry that mathematician, he was also allergic to animals, including my beloved horse and the cows.

Can you hear the laughter now?

Yep, the joke was on me.

For years, I followed my husband from new jobs to other states so he can teach and get his teaching certifications and degrees. Yet, all the while I kept telling myself I could live without the farm.

Who was I kidding?

Not me.

Not anymore.

While you can tie down and try to pen up the farm girl inside me, it can’t be contained for long.

Because no matter how hard you try, you can’t stop being who you are or yearning for what it is you’ve always wanted.

Deep down– farmer’s daughter,  farmer’s wife, — it makes no difference. Being a farm girl is who I am. Farming is in my blood. I might have been born in a hospital, but  my parents brought me home and raised me on the farm.

I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again: you can take the girl from the farm, but you can’t take the farm from the girl. Go ahead share tweet this to your friends. 

Sometimes we all need to return to our roots.

Sometimes we need to stop asking, “What if” and instead formulate the “How.”

It’s like falling in love and courting your future other half. The answers will come as you need them. Just rely on your heart and the faith you hold inside you to be your guide.

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There is a new cow in the barn

She came to us with no ear tag. Just a sticker number on her back.

caramel cow

My son bestowed her with the name of ‘Caramel.’

There’s nothing wrong with naming a cow after your favorite ice cream topping, right?

We don’t know much about Caramel, only that someone put her in a trailer and shipped her to the auction. There she went through the ring and was sold to the highest bidder, which just happened to be us. She was then loaded onto my dad’s trailer and he brought her to the farm.

Talk about having a long day.

Imagine leaving home in the morning not knowing where you were going and by supper finding yourself in a new place. A new herd.

Distressing.

Reality.

There are some of us who are born and are buried in the same place. We spend our entire lives in one place. Dairy cows aren’t much different. Once in a while, however, some of us may leave home. We see the world and leave traces of our journey through the friends we meet and the people we impress.

Some of us return home.

Some of us join new herds and find new barns.

No matter what the circumstance, I believe people come into each others’ lives for a reason. Whether they stay for the long haul or a short while, the impact of knowing them is priceless.

Here on the farm, cows aren’t much different. Some come, some go, some travel and some never leave.

Welcome to the farm.