It all began with an autumn visit to family, an infrequent stop to cousins to buy organic meat and produce from the farm that had been in the family for four generations. From the moment we arrived, something in us softened. The rolling hills, the crisp grassy air, autumn leaves against blue skies. And the silence — true silence, the calming birdsong and the quiet rhythms of nature. It was love at first sight.
We left that day inspired, with a bag of fresh organic vegetables and grass-fed beef raised on their land. As we said good-bye, we learned that the property next door — that they had also farmed for decades — was for sale. They were hoping to find the right buyer who would allow them to continue farming the land and protect its organic certification. Without much thought or intention, we asked them to let us know if the property didn't sell. It was the kind of place we imagined moving to someday, not realizing a little spark had just been ignited.
We returned to the city changed, though we didn't yet know how deeply.
The meal we cooked was transformative. It tasted like connection, like belonging, like something we didn't have a name for yet — and would come to understand as ecological belonging.
Several months later, in the dead of winter, the phone rang. "Were you serious about buying the farm?" Not now, and at that point it felt too late. The spark had grown, and we realized we couldn't pass up this opportunity to move closer to our dreams of a simpler life, a stronger connection to the land, the farm family and to nature. So on Earth Day we jumped in, with both feet.
We arrived that spring and cleaned, cleared and released what no longer belonged. We immediately felt at home and every visit from the city felt too short. When we were there, we slowed down. We listened. We breathed in fresh clean air, drank pristine spring water. We let the quiet recalibrate our nervous systems. We touched the bark, the soil, stones and leaves, sensing the connections threading everything together, including us. This place has shaped us as much as we shape it.
After several years of this rural therapy, the farm drew us out of the city to be closer to the land. As we listened to the land and the rhythms of nature, we discovered another benefit — the opportunity to share these experiences with community through growing, harvesting, gathering, learning and healing.
The farm is a place of nourishment, restoration and reconnection. Since April 22, 2014 family, friends, work colleagues and now an extended community gather here to be in nature. The farm continues to be a place to celebrate and remember that we are not separate from nature — it is part of us, and we are deeply held by it.
