Our Family Farm by Travis Daniels

      “Are you sure this is the life you want to lead?” Winston said looking at us with a grin.

      “Of course,” we replied with naive certainty. Winston continued to grin and this time he let out a laugh. It is a question that has resonated with Amy (my wife) and me for the last five years. We were closing on the mortgage to our house and at the time could not imagine what was so funny. You see, we were buying the farm where my grandfather and his brothers grew up and worked everyday. Winston, my great uncle, is the youngest and stayed there the longest.

      Winston is our farm’s greatest asset. Ask him anything and he flips through that rolodex in his head until the information is found. Initially, he kept his distance, like a cow watching its calf venture to a distant part of a field alone. But soon he realized that he’d better stick around and help.

      “Your first year will be a gift. It will be the easiest. The second one won’t,” Winston said. A few days later he left with the other snow birds. Those words could not have been chosen any better. The first year at the farm, the winter was mild and the woodshed was full. Fortunately, the only animals we had then were two goats and a dog. The water for the goats froze a few times that winter and they had kids. It was a great introduction to the farm. Winter surrendered to spring and the two wide-eyed clueless kids had plans.

      Amy and I wanted cows. Lucky for us, someone else wanted to pasture their cows at our place. At first it was like baby-sitting several well behaved toddlers but that didn’t last. Around this time we received two bits of advice. “Don’t trust the fences” and “If you have cows, you have problems”. We knew the fences were old and in need of repair but were fairly adequate. Within a short while, the herd took a few “field trips”. Now we knew Winston’s advice should be taken seriously. It wasn’t long before I was sheepishly walking the fence line with Winston. As we walked, he told me what to repair, and like a good student, I did.

      When it was time to hay, Winston was our best farm hand. He would somehow magically appear to help hay as if he knew exactly when we would begin baling. Since Winston grew up on the farm he knew which fields to cut and when. He once told me to mow a field even though the weather was calling for rain. I didn’t want to mow and asked Winston if he had heard the weather. “I don't pay any attention to that. Besides, what do they care? Right or wrong they still get paid”. Of course, he was right. The weather cleared and the hay was ready to be baled. Like good students, we hooked up the baler and were under way. The bales came out of the chute and Winston’s face lit up. “That is excellent quality hay; you’ll have no problem selling it.” With that said, my spry 80 years young uncle jumped into the bed of the truck ready to stack some hay.

      When we recall being asked, “Are you sure this is the life you want to lead?” Amy and I are the ones chuckling now. For Winston, listening to the two wide-eyed clueless kids who knew little to nothing about farming must have been infinitely hilarious. I worked at the farm throughout my childhood. I helped my Uncle George make hay, split wood, chase cows, etc. I’ve always had a connection with the place. When I was fifteen, I told my best friend that I was going to live here someday. He told me that he knew I would. This place has always felt like home to me. It’s an honor to work the same fields my grandfather and great grandfather did. Being a farmer isn’t simply an occupation. It’s a way of life.