A Job I Can Believe In

I believe in America’s small family farms. I am a farmer in my 25th growing season. My life didn’t begin on a farm but like most of you in a typical suburban neighborhood. First I became a farmer’s wife. Then I became a farmer. Oh, of course I called myself a farmer from the first day I relocated to the farm. But upon reflection I realize my transition from farmer’s wife to farmer took time.

There is no defining moment, no epiphany, but like a seed planted in spring’s warming soil slowly rising out of the earth, reaching for light, for its destiny, I too knew at some point I was a partner with the earth, that I had traveled down a dusty lane in my heart with no turn-about possible or desired.

My transition was fueled by experiences like living through my first drought, watching the vegetables I had planted to sell at the farmer’s market wither and brown under the endlessly blue sky and hot searing sun. We’d scan the sky for any sign of approaching rain, for relief for our plants and ourselves, but to no avail. Every dry day and barren skyline meant a delcine in our income for the year. I’d lie awake at nights in panic – we had three children to support, a farm mortgage to pay, equipment loans to cover. The vegetables had perished and the tree fruit would be woefully small and difficult to sell. I began to think I had chosen a mad woman’s path to follow.

I will never forget the day the rain finally came that year – we were working inside the barn when we heard and smelled the approaching rain. One by one we left the barn to stand in the rain, silently, reverently, as if is church. It was a quick shower, too brief, but all rejoiced for those few moments in the simple wonder of the rain. It ended, we went back to our jobs, wet but refreshed, renewed like the fruit trees around us. It would rain again another day. We would figure out how to survive a bad year on the farm financially. And there was always next year to think about.

Each year brings a new challenge and unique experience to the farm. I’m always thankful at the end of the harvest and joyfully giddy when the first seed catalogs arrive. I am never the same person at the end of the season as at the beginning, for I learn something from my farm every year.

When I was young I wanted a job that would make a difference in the quality of life for others; a job that I could believe in, be passionate about. The importance of what my family and I do on this farm is affirmed every day. My family accepts the toil and sacrifice that farming requires so we all may eat well. And in this I believe with my heart and soul.