The “FarmHer” and the “Laborer”

We work hard. Both of us. Physical, muscle-pulling, back-aching, invigorating, exhilarating hard work. The kind that makes you sleep at night or sometimes keeps you up. We are a team. I am strong, but he can do things that I just can’t. I do things that he doesn’t have the patience or desire to do. I like to sweet talk my critters. He likes to make sure they know who’s in charge. He calls me the farmer and refers to himself as the “laborer”. Yin and yang?

Neither of us was born into a farming family, at least our parents were not farmers. We both had grandparents and great-grandparents who at sone time or another, made their living working the land. I guess it’s in the genes.

When I was a little girl, we moved to a rural (at the time) suburb of Boston. The land our house was built upon had been part of an old farm before it was subdivided for a new residential development. I remember being so excited to hear that and truly thought we lived on a farm. We even had the remnants of an old brick lined dug well in the back yard.

My wonderful Dad, who spent many summers on his uncle’s farm as a boy, gave me a love of gardening. I remember spending Saturday mornings with him planting our small patch of corn, potatoes, and of course, tomatoes. I don’t know that we ever got any good corn out of that patch, but I can still recall the fabulous taste of those fresh dug “new” potatoes boiled, slathered in butter and salted just so. And, of course, what could beat a just picked sun warmed tomato?

Did I mention we had ducks? I have almost always kept ducks. Big, chubby, comical white Pekin ducks. Our children were raised with ducks and now our grandchildren enjoy our ducks, Huey and Daisy, here on the farm. I digress…

Jim spent his early childhood in the town next to ours. No farming there either, but my mother-in-law had a real green thumb. Somehow, despite raising nine children, she found the time to put in a beautiful asparagus and rhubarb beds, as well as a kitchen garden and gorgeous annual flower beds which lined the long walkway to the house. So there are the genes again.

Some years later, we two kids from neighboring towns, met a mutual friend’s birthday party, kind of fell hard and got hitched (not all at once). Our first house was a rental in the city of Newton, MA . Jim hand dug a 6 X 6 plot so I could plant a kitchen garden. Oops! The landlady was not amused! She said it looked like we “buried a dog” there and she made us grass it back in. Grumpy.

So here we are. Somewhere in our DNA there is a passion for all of this. We love what we do. We are proud of how we run things on our little piece of paradise. Our animals are more than a food source. We respect their lives and are thankful for all they give us. Farming is not easy and the monetary rewards are tenuous and slim, but the satisfaction of living this lifestyle, breathing the fresh air, caring for the land is, as they say, “priceless” . We have everything we need. All creatures great and small…