I am not a farmer. I have never wanted to be a farmer, and would not love it. I am a writer, and have always been a writer. I am a writer with a farm. And my farm has been a Mother to me, the greatest teacher I have known. A few weeks ago, a woman came to look at the farm from a city in Massachusetts. Well, she told me, I don’t think I could really live with this kitchen. I smiled, knowing this farm was not for her, that it was not her place. Sunday, a man and his wife motorcycled up from Massachusetts to look at the farm, and I could see him light up when he saw the path, took in the view, fell in love with the old farmhouse and the barns. “I love this place,” he said.
I could see this farm was his place, was for him, whether he buys it or not. The farm is always revealing itself, always teaching. It is looking for the new owner, making its own decision about who is the next student, the next lesson. Some lucky person will come soon to love it and take it from me, from us.
It has taught me that I need to share my life with someone, be connected. It was too much for me alone, too frantic, too hard. Alone, I loved it, but it was beyond me in many ways. I could never keep up with it.
The farm has taught me about the rythyms of work and responsibility. A farm’s chores cannot be postponed. They are eternal, never finished, evolving, challenging. They define life and work, bound the day, begin and end it.
The farm has taught me about the wonderful and real life of real animals. About life and death, choices and responsibilities. I no longer see animals as dependent creatures who can live forever in paradise, but as partners in a world of beautiful truth and reality. The farm has taught me about the nature of the world. About money – no farm can live without hard and cold decisions.
The farm has taught me about creativity and writing, bringing me light, color and character for my photographs. Stories, inspirations, characters for my books, for my blog.
The farm brought me love, it is where Maria and I met, and where we are growing up together, partners in this farm. We share in its chores, its care, it’s dares.
And soon, one of these days, the farm will teach me another lesson – how to say goodbye, how to move on, how to go to the next thing, learn from another farm.
Like any good teacher, any good parent, there comes a time when there is no more to be learned, when it is time to say goodbye and take the lessons I have learned and bring them into my life. Those are some of the lessons of my farm.