Guest Blog

When my husband and I decided to come back to his family’s farm, we sure didn’t come back for the money or the cushy hours. We chose farming as an occupation because we knew we wanted to raise our family on a farm. It’s simply the best way to raise kids … at least that’s what our 21-year-old selves thought.

Here’s the deal: It ain’t 1940 and most people aren’t getting their milk from their own cows or even their neighbour’s cows. These days, consumers are buying their food from the grocery store and are wondering where in the heck the product originated. Not everyone lives in a rural area and has the opportunity to meet a local farmer or visit a dairy farm.

I shared the following earlier this year on social media:

“I was recently asked what I am most excited for in the new year (2018). I thought; then I thought some more.

I was raised in the country, in a red brick Victorian on 2 acres. I was not, however, raised on a farm. To now be a third-generation dairy and cash crop farmer is far beyond, as a girl, what I thought my life would be like.

“Trust no one.” “Always trust your instinct.” “Trust in the Lord your God with all your heart.” There are people who have betrayed us who we can’t trust, and there are others whom we would give our PIN number.

I was unloading the dishwasher a few days ago and paused to ponder my husband’s coffee cup. It stuck out like a sore thumb among the other dishes, all scratched and dented, looking like something that belonged in the scrap metal pile rather than the kitchen counter.