The moving motortruck ’s outsized wheel met the graveled drive — ourgraveled driveway — with an avidity that equal the pull we ’d find for years to the agrarian life . Our unexampled farmstead sit in front of us , and as we brought the fomite to a stop , our eyes get in the overgrownpasturesand open fields and saw only the potentiality in the lead of us .
We did n’t glance in the motortruck ’s rearward survey mirror as we leave ( metaphorically , I mean — of row we drove safely ) , but here ’s what we drive away from on that fateful 24-hour interval : a niche lot in a bustling college town , a shopfront business sector we ’d commence 12 years prior , and a group of high-priced friends who did n’t understand why we were move to the middle of nowhere to raisepigsandchickens . It was a full life , but we feel ready to take on the next matter — the thing that had captured our hearts and head over the course of the last few years .
Our first dark in the Civil War - earned run average farmhouse , we found ourselves excited , nervous and … lonely .
This is a hard reality of farming . They do n’t lease you raise declamatory animals too close to the urban center , so in pursuing dreaming of ego - sustenance and food independence , new Farmer are more likely than not to shoot down in a lonely part of the landscape painting . The penny-pinching neighbor may live a car ’s crusade away or use their land for recreational escape on random weekend . run into town is an all - solar day affair that requires preparation and forethought ; for many , operate for sugar or a cold sixer just is n’t an pick .
Our farm is 15 miles from town . The farmhouse sit a mile off a interfering ( if treasonably windy ) route , and the next postal address is a minute ’s amble from our own mailbox . Realistically , we are n’t alone by any definition of the word , but we can go many days without speaking to a person who does n’t deal our family name .
While those first few weeks on the farm were emotionally challenging , we did , in time , get wind to redefine our concept of community . Neighbors stopped by to bring out themselves , write down their number and heartily offer up assistance ; I ’d venture to say this is fairly universal in rural residential area . And though our city senses kept us from calling those numbers flop away , we did , in time , learn to piece up the phone and ask for service when we needed it .
Before moving to a rural community , I read something by a farmer / author who take that rural area masses lose their sense of distance : They just drive until they get there . While the first few month saw us feel exhausted by our infrequent , 20 - minute trip to town , we eventually stopped clock misstep home from the grocery memory board ( podcasts on the auto stereophony helped ) . Library day , too , became an authoritative feature of the workweek : free programs supply opportunities for social fundamental interaction that act upon with our limited financial situation . I can attend a author ’s radical while my children sit in book - golf club discussions and report hours . My parents , who go on the farm with us , incur fresh friends in a local church service community . We sign our children up for a homeschool computer programme at the YMCA and met a chemical group of like - minded parents who quickly became friends , despite the 40 - minute driving between our houses .
hand down , though , our most important social experience take in spot at the weeklyfarmers market , where we bear behind our booth and let the cat out of the bag for hours with people concerned in and encouraging of our work . This , for me , is key to living an often - sequestrate agrarian life : It ’s supporting and affirming to be thanked for all the dirty , back - breaking work key to farming . We made fast supporter with other vendor and have been invited to party , give concert tickets and even networked for freelance study from behind our baseborn booth .
In clip , we became those country people who lost track of distance . Our child participate in programs that require us to force for an hour every Saturday morning , and that ’s just what we do . gather ups with friends last hours or else of second , to offset drive fourth dimension and general infrequency .
It works , but some Day I detest it . I think that ’s OK . Not everyone is cut out for this lifetime , and I ’m the first to admit I may not be one of the choose few ( feel trapped is a debilitating emotional condition ) . But none of that detracts from the fact that I did something I felt was important , learned skill I would n’t have possessed otherwise , and for as long as I maintain it , puts something ripe into this world in the soma of sustainably raised , market - useable protein . If I do something else in a few age , no long able to affirm the sacrifices that modern society demands of the James Leonard Farmer , I ’ve still done something most folk have n’t . Nobody can ever take my experience away from me , and I think that ’s one of the best reason to make the saltation andchoose to be a sodbuster .
