To the place heart-a-yearnin'

Earlier this year a local couple announced they were giving away their farm in an essay contest. I found myself telling everyone—anyone—about it and my dream of living on the land. I was very excited at the possibility, and others were very excited for me, even perfect strangers. I talked about it outside a bar one night and a friend of a friend gave me the first spontaneous donation towards the entry fee. I have had so many supporters that I cannot remember all of the folks who asked me to let them know the result. It is truly humbling to feel such immediate and genuine support from so many different quarters.

I knew that win, lose, or draw, the important work was for me to express my dream in concrete terms and send it out into the Universe. Writing the essay was difficult work. It brought up a lot of emotions, and the writing did not flow as naturally as it normally does for me. Yet in the end, it all clicked in.

Last week, the couple announced that they did not receive enough entries for the contest to work financially. So, the farm will be sold instead. I was disappointed when I heard the news at the end of a long day. I went immediately to talk to one of my biggest supporters and colleagues. Her support never flagged, and we both agreed that something even more suited for me is on the horizon. I feel it in my heart, that place that I belong to, that place heart-a-yearnin'.

So here it is, in 1,000 words or less (985 to be exact): why I fell in love with the dream of living at Rock Spring Farm: 

2013 with Tiny Tim at Smith Meadows' Farm Day. Photo by J. Kennedy.

A few years ago, I read Forrest Pritchard’s book titled Gaining Ground. I consumed it cover to cover in one day. At the last line, I cried. “Somewhere, another farm awaits its farmer.” Those words hit home on a dream that I’ve moved toward for over half my life, and to which I’ve always returned after life’s curves took me further away.

I fell in love with horses at a young age but had little opportunity to ride. I also loved reading, so I allowed Marguerite Henry and Walter Farley to take me on all kinds of equine adventures. I finally indulged this passion more directly when I went to college. I took horseback riding for my P. E. classes and requested the stables for my work study position. Between classes that year I stayed busy mucking stalls, cleaning tack, and watering the horses, from fall through the bitter winter, and then to spring. Years later I took additional riding lessons locally. I envision having a pair of draft horses someday for light farm work and for riding.

After a ride with Shorty. 2010, near Radford, VA.

My interest in farming, a surprise even to me, developed in high school when I discovered the term “sustainable agriculture.” I tried my hand at organic gardening, bemoaning the contrast between the red Carolina clay I lived on and the black loamy soil my grandparents had farmed in the Midwest. My heart still warms when I see the first two leaves pushing out of the soil from a seed. Despite the words of my well-meaning and protective father, “you’re not strong enough for that [kind of life],” which echoed in my mind for years, I began college with a major in Environmental Science and minor in Agriculture.

During college I discovered that I had a creative side as well as an academic side, and followed my heart in changing majors. I graduated with a degree in Art with an English minor. In the meantime, I spent two summers working at a historical farm museum. We dressed in 1800s costumes, tended the garden, and cared for a menagerie of animals, all heritage breeds. Every weekend we cooked a full meal on the hearth, and in the afternoons I would indulge in a new favorite skill: spinning wool.

1996 during the Folklife Festival, Blue Ridge Institute & Museum, Ferrum, VA.

Eight years later, married to my college sweetheart and with a successful corporate career, I suffered from migraines, heartburn, and depression. I left my cube farm job and greatly refreshed my soul by working on a farm and for a landscaper while I was job hunting. I also began volunteering for an organic CSA. I enjoyed connecting people directly with local farmers, and I worked with the organizers and our farmers for several years. 

A new start in an administrative position for a local nonprofit was followed shortly by the end of my marriage. The new financial realities took some adjustment, and I moved to an apartment in the city. Being close to my support network was helpful during that time of personal rediscovery, even when my dream of living on land felt further away. I have thrived at my job, and feel privileged to work for an organization so focused on helping people in the community.

My balcony garden with plants from Forrest Green Farm, 2015.

Over the years I’ve grown more comfortable with who I am and more vocal about my passions. I’ve let go of my own insecurities and others’ discouraging remarks. Instead of trying to justify my love for the land, I’ve simply accepted it as part of who I am. I know that I am here to speak for the earth, in some way, through agriculture. I’ve gardened in friends’ yards and in the community garden. This year I have found deep satisfaction and joy with my second-floor balcony container garden because of its close proximity. I love learning different plants and their cycles and interrelationships. Now and again I escape to a farm where I’ve been taking herbalism classes over the past few years.

I am now volunteering my administrative skills for a state-wide organization that focuses on sustainable farming. A few weeks ago, on a trip with them, I stopped at my alma mater, tucked in the foothills of the Blue Ridge. I sat down under a well-loved maple tree and breathed in the familiar air. The serenity of the remote location always brings peace to me. I have roots there. In time I know I will grow deeper roots on land of my own, and the family I hope to share it with eventually will always be able to come back and visit the peace of our home.

October 2015 in Ferrum, VA.

Attending a soil workshop last year reignited my excitement for science. In 2016 I will begin studying soil microbiology and learn how to correct and balance the biology in the soil, the foundation of all plant health. Living at Rock Spring Farm would allow me the space to put that knowledge into practice easily. The farm is within a reasonable commute of my current job, so I would be able to continue working there until it is time to transition my career again. I look forward to having more space to expand my garden to grow herbs for my medicine cabinet, and to grow vegetables and fruits for the table. I look forward to rubbing down the horses after a ride, and sitting on the porch during a long summer evening as the fireflies come out, followed by the stars. I feel the most joy in contemplating the idea of sharing my new home with my beloved family and friends by hosting gatherings and sharing my love of the land. Thank you, Randy and Carolyn (and Margie), for the gift of knowing that dreams can come true in extraordinary ways.

I am still writing my story. Pritchard was right. There is a farm out there for me, and it is calling me home. My heart is answering, with great joy.

Well the summertime has gone
And the leaves are gently turnin'
And my love, I wanna take you
To the place heart-a-yearnin'
Will you go, lassie go?