The Evolution of a Farm Diva

I’m a diva. I’m a farm diva. I’m a farm diva blogger.

That last one is really terrifying, because blogging means I could fail at this in front of the entire internet.  You see, right now my farm consists of a table in my basement full of seed trays under grow lamps and a five gallon bucket of kitchen waste and dirt under my sink. It’s as humble a start as many I’m sure, but I’m starting farther behind than most.

In my forty-plus years on this planet, I’ve milked a cow once, I’ve plucked a couple of chickens, I’ve dragged hay bales across a sweltering barn loft for a few days, I’ve weeded my parents’ garden for seemingly endless hours in blistering heat and experimented with container gardening.  That is the entirety of my farming resume.

While I have many practical survival skills that could get me stripped of my urban diva credentials, I did spend much of my early life attempting to transcend the mundane. The diva dragon ladies who mentored me certainly spent years trying to refine me, and their efforts paid off.  However, my personal growth has always been thwarted by the Midwestern values of my youth driving me to do something productive. 

I have evolved from being a starry eyed country girl with dreams of the big city, to a reluctant urban diva, to full blown cosmopolitan diva with dreams of owning a goat. It is certainly difficult to balance the artistry of a diva with the pragmatism of a farmer, but I like to think the exercise makes me universally enlightened and occasionally ridiculous. It certainly takes optimism and a good sense of humor. If you’re joining in the cyber-version of my new adventure, I hope you’re an optimist with a sense of humor too, because good company makes everything worthwhile.

To be honest, when my interest in entertaining and cooking turned to an interest in slow food (i.e. yard to table cooking), I wasn’t particularly optimistic. I have a full time job in an air conditioned office.  I lived in the city. It gets hot outside and there is all of that dirt out there too. I was an urban diva after all, so it was eight more years and a move to the foothills of the Rockies before it started to sink in. I started to think I might be able to grow some patio tomatoes, but I only went as far as cutting most processed foods out of my diet.

I was sure I couldn’t do it myself. It’s ridiculous! I’m a city-sophisticate diva! I get my nails done. I have monthly massages. I like dining out and going to the theater and staying at posh hotels and playing with my Chihuahua, who is really cute in my purse.  Wouldn’t you know that’s all pretty cute to a mountain man who calls me Pepper and gives me goose bumps even after two years together. So I started to think, I might be able to do this.

At long last, I tried some container gardening. I made my own cheese from milk I bought at the store. I had my very first caprese salad from my very own cheese, tomatoes and basil, and I was hooked. Next I was thinking, if only I could get my hands on some good soil I could grow other vegetables, and we were off to find the right place.

Did we ever find it! The house is perfect for cooking and entertaining and the dirt is beautiful. The adventure begins when we close in April on a 2.2 acre mini-farm with a well, a horse barn, a chicken coop, a pasture, and (thank God for indoor plumbing) a septic system.

My compost is packed. Let’s go farm.