Country Living

I haven’t really shared much in the way of my life here on the farm. I thought it would be fun to show you around and tell you a bit more about me and how I , and city girl proud and strong, ended up here.

When the idea of starting a blog first came to me, I really wanted to share the joys of rural living that I have come, kicking and screaming, to appreciate. It did not come easy for me, this county living. I had to learn how to adapt to life in a foreign land that offered no pizza delivery, will never have fiber optic internet, and no matter how long I live here I will always be considered an outsider.

In spite of all that, I was determined to find my way in this foreign land and make it work for me. I embraced my love of cooking and planted a garden filled with fresh herbs and vegetables. Started an orchard filled with sweet succulent fruit and am still patiently waiting for it to produce. Brought in animals and filled the yards with horses, a few cats, a dog, hens, and a few cows.

I was a hot mess at first. It was city ways vs. country survival. One morning I was sitting at the kitchen table sipping my morning cup of coffee when my husband ran in and shouted, “The cattle got out.” I yawn and ask, got out where. He went on to explain in a frantic arm flaying sort of way, that I had to help him corral them now. I look down at my beautiful silk jammies and tell him I will be right there after I change. I guess out here now means there is no time for changing.

I run outside in fancy Michigan Avenue PJ’s and try to expand myself into a human fence line pointing the cattle in the right direction. My husband, an old pro at this farm life, has the cattle turning back toward the barn when one particularly spunky fellow spotted the weakest link, ME.  He stops and looks me right in the eye sizing me up as I hover in fear. I swear I see him smirk at the moment he realizes he can take me. So, I do what any city girl would do, I scream hysterically which confused him enough to have him running away from the crazy girl and back to the safe haven of his pen. Lord have mercy, what did I get myself into?

The cattle lasted maybe three years until I could not take it anymore. When your blonde haired, blue eyed angels look up at you from the dinner table and ask, “Is this Homer or Eli that we are eating.” That’s all it took for me to put my foot down. There would be no more cattle on this farm. Eating something I bottle fed, named, and raised gave me stomach cramps. I’m not saying I’m a vegetarian. I’m just saying I prefer my meat never have looked me in the eye or used my fingers as their pacifier.

I often miss the city and all the conveniences city living offer, but at the end of the day I know I am the luckiest person on earth.  I get to sit outside on early summer mornings sipping coffee while songbirds sing to me, deer sample the nuts from my oak trees and the family of red fox wrestle in the pasture all under a canopy of lush trees with the smell of honeysuckle drifting in the air.

Advertisements

Author: Ella

Just a girl who loves to cook farm-to-fork foods living the dream!

16 thoughts

    1. Reach for those dreams, girl! Can you imagine a ranch with cattle grazing in the pasture and those majestic Rocky Mountains behind them. This needs to happen!

      In the meantime, I’ll keep sharing my farm with you. πŸ˜‰

    1. I agree (90% of the time). I do miss my city though! Or maybe I just miss childhood and no responsiblities. ☺

        1. The way I see it is like this…we were dysfunctional no doubt about it, but my siblings and I were a team and if that means keeping them, then I’d do it all over again. I was lucky that way.

    1. I believe the phase you are looking for is survival instinct; the instinct to do things in a dangerous situation that will prevent them from dying. β˜ΊπŸ˜‰

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.