This week I have focused on what I call our little urban farm, which really means 3 gardens and 4 chickens in our backyard. We’ve enjoyed it so much and been so eager to learn more that it kind of makes me wonder, how did we get this farming itch? And the answer may go back to the 1940’s in the plains of North Dakota where my father in law grew up.

Earlier this week when we were all together for the 4th of July I asked him if he was raised on a farm. He was hesitant to answer yes and needed clarification. In the sense of commercial farming as a full time income, he was not raised on a farm. They did live off of the land though, which back then was just living, not necessarily farming. They raised their own meat, milked their own cows, and planted their own produce. He shared memories of putting fresh milk in a pillow case tied tight with a stick that would become cottage cheese. He remembers a wood burning stove, a root cellar, and a cantacerous rooster that when finally caught was slaughtered by his mother on the chopping block for Sunday dinner. He remembered that same rooster winking at his mother after being decapitated. She wasn’t able to kill another chicken after that day. Maybe J gets his farming itch from that side of the family.

My mom’s story takes us to a very similar lifestyle half a century ago up on a mountain in Vermont.

My mother was raised on a farm where she recalls growing up with 5 siblings and lots of animals eating whatever was in season. If the corn was ready for harvest then they ate corn until their hair turned yellow, if was beats they ate beats until they were ready to beat each other silly. I too have memories of visiting this farm as a child. One of my favorite activities was swinging from a rope tied to the rafters of the barn and plummeting down onto a thick pile of hay. I also remember sitting down for dinner having my uncle talk fondly of the pig we were about to partake. They were so comfortable with the whole farming process they would even refer to the animal by name as we ate her. I still have family up on that mountain and it is one the most beautiful places I have ever been. I look forward to the day I can bring my kids up there to share the experience with me.
In the mean time I do get to visit the country fairly often when I go up to J’s parent’s house.

They have a lot of land with dogs, cats, cows, and horses. This was the same field we renewed our vows on last year.

I love these photos of our rings positioned on my father in laws old tractor equipment.

Hearing stories from our history makes me feel like I am finding missing pieces of myself. Maybe that’s why we are into this farming thing right now. It’s in our roots.