From a very young age I remember running to the barn to collect eggs in the morning and hugging and kissing every pigs snout, loved on the cows and I didn’t care for the pigeons but I let them out every morning. I would help let the horses and cattle out to pasture, or helped my ‘dad’ hook up a horse or two to the ploughs to work the fields. I thought I was the biggest help in the world. Like how would he ever be able to do it without me; I’m sure I was in his way, but he would never tell me that.
I grew up on a farm for some of the most formative years of my life. I remember helping to milk our girls, I remember making butter, fresh bread baked every day and always being taught to be thankful for our opportunities and the food on our table. Picking apples and pears, sharing freshly made pies with seniors down the road. I remember lifting as many heavy items as I could to grow my pipes so one day I could crank that darn washing machine like my super hero mom. I would always flex the arm and say ‘Mom is this strong enough?’
My farm dad worked a full time job and as most know, running a viable sustainable homestead is a full time job as well. I can recall many evenings taking my warm milk that I had before bed and running in my nightgown, spilling most of it all over as I ran to the barn to listen to some of his stories while I sat on a gate to a stall as he did chores. I wasn’t allowed to do any of the chores because at this point I had already had a bath. My farm mom would freak if I came in too dirty.
When I decided it was time to get chickens and work towards some long time goals (and truthfully at some points in my life I reconciled them as just aspirations), the memories I have with them have been forefront ever since. I feel like I am heading back to where I am supposed to be. I know they are proud of what I have accomplished and laugh at my trials as I have each one, but I can feel their confidence backing me when I’m thinking this is it, I can’t do this anymore. My memories take me back to the hard work I saw them do. As a child I didn’t realize the depth of long days coupled with hard work, but as an adult their dedication to live sustainably is admirable.
I know they would be very proud, although my farm mom definitely wishes I didn’t have such a potty mouth and my farm dad is saying give’em
when they need it. I also hear my farm Dad saying ‘Enjoy all we have Nicole’ as he would swipe his extended arm around the barn and towards our enormous lush garden and hug me under his arm and say ‘we are so very rich. Life is good little girl.’ I can even hear his voice and see the cigarette bounce in his mouth while he says it. Both of my parents up north have since passed. Although I’ve always been thankful for the stability, security and family unit they provided for me, as an adult the words ‘thank you’ just don’t seem to do their generosity justice. Back to the earth is also my way of appreciating all they have ever done for me.
I'm staying because I owe it to myself. Its something I want to do and have for a very long time and dammit I deserve to be happy and provide for my family to the best of my capabilities. My homestead will continue to grow over the years and as I learn.
(p.s. Nicole/Nikky is a second name that some family members use for me)
