The Farm That Waited for Me

I’ve always carried a quiet longing for farm life, even before I knew how to name it. It wasn’t something I grew up doing – it was something I grew up missing.

My grandfather had a dairy farm once. It burned down. They rebuilt. It burned down again. After the second fire, my grandfather made the hardest decision of his life and walked away. He went to work in a factory to support his ten children. My grandmother took a job as a CNA at the local county nursing home. Life moved forward, because it had to.

By the time I came along, the farm was gone. Only the remnants of the barn and silo remained – quiet markers of what once was. But even as a child, I felt it. Like a piece of my story had ended before, I ever got to step into it. Like something essential to who I was supposed to be had slipped past me.

I didn’t inherit the farm – I inherited the ache for it.

For as long as I can remember, I felt it – an unsettledness I couldn’t explain. Like I was moving through life mostly whole, but never complete. I was always searching for the thing, or place, where I truly belonged.

At times, that longing showed up as dreams of farm life. Other times, it took a different shape. I was called to nursing, and it became a meaningful career. It gave my four children a comfortable life, and I gave it everything I had. I pushed myself constantly; earning degrees, certifications, going back to school, teaching, and working two jobs. I learned how to care deeply for others and do it well.

But even with all of that, something still didn’t quite fit.

When I married my husband and moved back to my hometown; back near the land where my grandparents' farm once stood, that quiet pull grew louder. Being close to that original family land stirred something I couldn’t ignore anymore.

So, we started small. Not with a grand plan, but with curiosity and hope. A few animals. A small garden. Learning old skills piece by piece; canning, baking, keeping bees. Homesteading is the simplest sense of the word. Testing what it felt like to work with the land instead of just dreaming about it.

And for the first time, things began to feel....  closer to right.

Over the course of six years of homesteading, something became undeniably clear: I didn’t want pieces of farm life; I wanted the whole of it. A real farm. A barn full of animals. Land that asked something of me every day. A way of life rooted in intention, not convenience.

Then came a moment of absolute clarity. No spreadsheet. No five-year plan. No safety net. Just a knowing.

I started looking at local real estate listings with no real plan and not much money; only hope in my heart and passion in my soul. It felt less like a decision and more like a calling, one I could no longer ignore.

With what can only be described as blind faith, I called a realtor. She listened, smiled and said, “I think I have the right place to show you.”

It was December 2016. Cold. Snow was falling. We didn’t even get to see the barn. But none of that mattered; I felt it. Deeply. Instantly. I knew this was the one.

I also knew I couldn’t afford it. It was well beyond my budget. And yet, by some miracle; through doors opening that shouldn’t have, through persistence, grace, and a little bit of stubborn belief; I made it happen.

And just like that, the land I had been carrying in my heart for a lifetime finally became real.

We closed on the house in Aprill of 2017 and moved in slowly, almost carefully. The farm sits just five minutes from where I grew up, on my grandparents’ original land. That closeness felt significant; like coming full circle, even if I didn’t et know what the circle looked like.

At first, it was overwhelming. The house was a massive seven-bedroom farmhouse. The land stretched across fifty acres. And the barn -117 years old – stood full of history and promise but needed an incredible amount of work before it could be used again.

So we began.

We updated the barn, Put up fencing. Added animals. Started gardens. One project led to the next, and even when it felt slow or exhausting, I knew – deep down – that there was more coming. The farm felt alive, almost communicative, as if the land itself was quietly guiding me forward. There was a steady whisper telling me to keep building, even without knowing what would follow or who might come.

Then came a small but pivotal idea.

I bought an old vintage fifteen-foot camper for a mere four hundred dollars and fixed it up with less that a hundred more. I listed it on Airbnb, not knowing exactly what to expect. That season, it made more than double what it cost.

It was a light-bulb moment.

We had found our niche.

One camper became two, then a few more. The next season, we added a small farm store. I stopped trying to force a plan and instead let my imagination lead. In the quiet moments- early morning, golden evenings, the pause between chores – I found something I hadn’t known I was searching for.

Magic.

It was the magic of the farm that pulled us forward. The magic that brought people here. The magic that turns land into a place, and a place into a feeling.

And that magic is still at work.

This upcoming season will be our tenth.

And we’re still building.

What began as a quiet calling has grown into something living and expansive. Today, or farm is home to two high tunnels. Over one hundred animals, and four fully equipped farm-stay campers nestled into the land. A new farm store is on the horizon for 2026, along with an annual farm celebration that brings neighbors, friends, and families together to mark another season of growth.

At the center of it all is family – steady, committed, and deeply rooted. We love our community, and everything we build is shaped with that love in mind.

Our farm continues to grow outward and inward at the same time. We care for the now 126-year-old barn and look forward to opening it more fully through guided barn tours, expanded access to the land, and deeper community connections. We proudly participate in SNAP and FMNP programs, believing that good food and meaningful experiences should be accessible to everyone.

From the land, we raise beef, pork, turkey and chicken. We offer goats, ducks, and chickens. We share what we make here – maple syrup, honey, jams, goat milk soaps, and baked goods – each item tied back to the hands and heart that created it.

Looking ahead, our vision continues to unfold. More farm stays. Improved wooded hiking trails. New farm products. Seasonal events that invite people to slow down and stay awhile – goat yoga, Sundays at the farm with wagon rides, and thoughtfully designed winter rental experiences that celebrate the quieter magic of the season.

What started as a longing has turned into a place where people arrive curious and leave connected – tot he land, to the animals, to each other, and sometimes even to themselves.

That’s the story we’re telling. And it’s still being written.

I have learned that dreams and magic are real – or at least as real as we allow them to be in our own lives. Faith and belief are everything. Follow your heart and let it be your guide. This entire journey has taught me those lessons, again and again. I hold no regrets. Every failure became a lesson, every setback a teacher. My love for this farm is beyond complete. And for the very first time in my nearly fifty-three years, I know exactly who I am and where I belong. This farm leads me. It calls to me. And I listen

Small Steps Create Big Shifts

Confidence doesn’t always arrive with a bold entrance. Sometimes, it builds quietly, step by step, as we show up for ourselves day after day. It grows when we choose to try, even when we’re unsure of the outcome. Every time you take action despite self-doubt, you reinforce the belief that you’re capable. Confidence isn’t about having all the answers — it’s about trusting that you can figure it out along the way.

The key to making things happen isn’t waiting for the perfect moment; it’s starting with what you have, where you are. Big goals can feel overwhelming when viewed all at once, but momentum builds through small, consistent action. Whether you’re working toward a personal milestone or a professional dream, progress comes from showing up — not perfectly, but persistently. Action creates clarity, and over time, those steps forward add up to something real.

You don’t need to be fearless to reach your goals, you just need to be willing. Willing to try, willing to learn, and willing to believe that you’re capable of more than you know. The road may not always be smooth, but growth rarely is. What matters most is that you keep going, keep learning, and keep believing in the version of yourself you’re becoming.

Turn Intention Into Action

Confidence doesn’t always arrive with a bold entrance. Sometimes, it builds quietly, step by step, as we show up for ourselves day after day. It grows when we choose to try, even when we’re unsure of the outcome. Every time you take action despite self-doubt, you reinforce the belief that you’re capable. Confidence isn’t about having all the answers — it’s about trusting that you can figure it out along the way.

The key to making things happen isn’t waiting for the perfect moment; it’s starting with what you have, where you are. Big goals can feel overwhelming when viewed all at once, but momentum builds through small, consistent action. Whether you’re working toward a personal milestone or a professional dream, progress comes from showing up — not perfectly, but persistently. Action creates clarity, and over time, those steps forward add up to something real.

You don’t need to be fearless to reach your goals, you just need to be willing. Willing to try, willing to learn, and willing to believe that you’re capable of more than you know. The road may not always be smooth, but growth rarely is. What matters most is that you keep going, keep learning, and keep believing in the version of yourself you’re becoming.

Make Room for Growth

Confidence doesn’t always arrive with a bold entrance. Sometimes, it builds quietly, step by step, as we show up for ourselves day after day. It grows when we choose to try, even when we’re unsure of the outcome. Every time you take action despite self-doubt, you reinforce the belief that you’re capable. Confidence isn’t about having all the answers — it’s about trusting that you can figure it out along the way.

The key to making things happen isn’t waiting for the perfect moment; it’s starting with what you have, where you are. Big goals can feel overwhelming when viewed all at once, but momentum builds through small, consistent action. Whether you’re working toward a personal milestone or a professional dream, progress comes from showing up — not perfectly, but persistently. Action creates clarity, and over time, those steps forward add up to something real.

You don’t need to be fearless to reach your goals, you just need to be willing. Willing to try, willing to learn, and willing to believe that you’re capable of more than you know. The road may not always be smooth, but growth rarely is. What matters most is that you keep going, keep learning, and keep believing in the version of yourself you’re becoming.