The Making of a Future Farmgirl

DSCF2011

Her smile widened as she shoved weeds through the holes in the chain link.  Little giggles filled the air as the goats took the greens from her and chomped appreciatively.

Our neighbor is getting married this weekend and some of her guests came over last night after arriving from southern California.  The smallest guest is probably seven years old, her long red hair perfectly in place with a headband, smartly dressed, with little freckles on her smiling face.  She stood mesmerized by the farm animals wandering our back yard.

We had just come home from a long farmers market and were lounging on the lawn chairs slightly hidden by the lilac bush.  Anti-social at the moment as we were so very exhausted.  After a bit though, my passion for sharing this lifestyle with others, especially children, got the better of me and I wandered over to her with a baby chicken.

“Would you like to see one of our chicks?” I asked her.  Her eyes lit up as she ran her petite hands over the soft plume of feathers.  I introduced her to the goats and called them by name.  She laughed at Isabelle standing off by herself yelling towards the back door.  She was summoning Doug to come milk her.

The little girl’s parents each took a turn coming over and talking to me, ever watchful of their young charge.  Doug came out with the milk bucket and the little girl got excited.  We invited her over to watch Doug milk.  We had the dad just lift her over the fence.  She followed me, practically dancing, petting chickens along the way.  As we approached the garage, the dad looked worried and in about twenty seconds appeared at the garage door.  We taught the little girl how to milk and we all laughed out loud each time the milk went flying in a different direction from her tiny fingers.  I then offered her a glass of chocolate milk from the kitchen.

“We’ll wait out here,” declared her dad.

“Suit yourself, but we have eight cats in here!”  I could tell the little girl wanted to come in but was content watching the ducklings until I returned.  She gulped down the chocolate milk, tried to pet the ducks, and decided she might become a farmer.

The two went back to their party.  When I went out to close up the chickens at dusk, she was still at the fence feeding the goats strands of weeds through the chain link, a million miles from home.

 

12 Comments Add yours

  1. Lisa says:

    I love that!!! so precious! Thanks for sharing

    1. Farmgirl says:

      One of the sweet rewards of this lifestyle.

    1. Farmgirl says:

      One farmer at a time!!

  2. Buffy says:

    Awe! So sweet of you to share! I took my baby chicks by the local daycare the other day. The kids loved them!

    1. Farmgirl says:

      It’s wonderful to see their faces! When I took our baby goat to the inner city middle schools the kids went crazy!

  3. Bill says:

    Wonderful. Introducing this life to children may be the most important work we do.

  4. Planting good seeds. i love it!

    1. Farmgirl says:

      A fun part of homesteading!

  5. rod says:

    To bad by the time she’s old enough to start a farm (homestead) it will be increasingly more diffacult than it is today. As we all know it is getting harder each day to be out in an area that can support anything like you have. The city life is moving further and further out all the time.

    1. Farmgirl says:

      This is true. Hopefully her generation will see the extreme importance of preserving farmland. It is even more important than preserving public lands. Hopefully that generation will see the demise we have set upon ourselves by turning over our food to greedy conglomerates and will reclaim the small farm ideal.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s