In 1976 we moved with our 3 young children from the suburbs to this 80 acre hill farm in southern Indiana. We wanted a more sustainable life style, a milk cow, and lots of gardens. We had no clue what we were getting into. The farm had been abandoned years before when the original house burned to its foundations. Except for an old barn and a few ramshackle outbuildings it had not seen care in a long, long time, and friend commented the land was so poor even a rabbit had to carry its lunch! But its hills and streams and woodlands were wild and beautiful and had, well, a presence that called to us. When we ran the property title, we found it had belonged to my husband’s great, great grandfather in the 1870s. Whether it was fate or just serendipity, we had come home. We located two 1800 log cabins, re-erected them over the old foundations, and began cleaning, clearing, and planting gardens. In 1977 we repaired the old barn and on a neighbor’s advice, we forgot about the cow and bought our first goat. She was far from beautiful, very cantankerous, and gave the worst milk we had ever tasted. We were in love.
Over the years, the suburbs have followed us and we’re now the last working dairy in our county. I think our city-folk roots have served us well and allowed us to do what no farmer in his right mind would have attempted. And we’re still inspired by this very special place that we, our children, and our grandchildren call home.
Follow Us on Twitter
Find Us on Facebook