Mine and my husband’s parents, at least on our mothers’ side, farmed. Our mothers worked on the farm along side their parents and siblings. But they decided to move off the farm and built lives in the city. But my husband and I both have memories of driving tractors and doing child appropriate farm chores. Why am I sharing this? Because as most of my readers know, we bought a five acre track of land with the intention of moving out of town to get away from ridiculous city ordinances. What started out as away to escape the noise and the pressure has turned into an idea of having a small subsistence farm with the hope that it one day may turn profitable.

The problem is of course, being two generations off the farm, other than knowing how to plant a garden, drive a tractor, care for and prepare chickens, and run barbed wire fence, Husby and I know absolutely nothing. And with many of our family members thinking we’re stupid city people, there are few people to ask advice from. But as I get older the desire to return to the farm and to grow things with my own hands grows stronger. The fields of corn I drive past to go to work make me wistful, and the tractors I have to slow down for on the state highways while at work make me wish I was behind the wheel of a piece of off-highway equipment, not my work truck.

This journey that we have decided to travel down, starting first with a half acre of vegetable gardening and a few fruit trees and working up to chickens and then hopefully pigs or goats, is not going to be easy and we’re going to screw up a few times. That’s why we’re going to keep our day jobs for awhile, though Husby will probably always keep his. We’re also going to have to commute farm for awhile since we have no house out there yet and can’t afford to build one just yet since we bought the land free and clear. But even if all we ever have is some chickens and a garden patch, I can be happy, knowing that we tried.

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