I headed out to the farm today and enjoyed a crunchy morning stroll across the field. Four months now since I first walked out here; I’m constantly taken by the views.
When I started this land search almost 3 years ago, a wise friend and mentor told me that it could take years to find the right place. Naturally, I didn’t believe her.
I’ve seen dozens of farms come up for sale. I’ve searched actively at times, passively during my busy farming season, and aggressively at moments of desperation. Told myself it doesn’t have to be perfect, it will be perfected over time. But back in September, when I was out of town, my realtor Dennis sent me a listing, a little farther out of town than I’d wanted, a little bigger than I’d been thinking.
“Sure,” I said, “Can we take a look when I get back in town if it’s still around?”
A week later we met at the gate and walked 30 feet into the field.
“Yep, this is it.”
He asked if I was sure; the soil seemed rocky. Let’s walk a little further.
OK, I’ll walk, but I already know. I was drawn to the dynamic wavy soil, high and low spaces, the wooded slope, the small marshy pond-puddle. One tall tree left in the middle of it all to give a tired farmer shade.
4 months later, the initial terror of taking on this daunting endeavor has at least momentarily subsided, giving way to a well of excited anticipation being fed by streams of supportive friends and family who managed to keep believing this long-thought day would ever come.
I feed that energy into planning and preparing paired with a little bit of dreaming for now while this crunchy snow coats the soil, barring me from fieldwork but not field walks.
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