It has been 20 years since Peter and I bought our farm and moved to the Mohawk Valley. I can hardly believe it myself! It seems like just yesterday that I was scraping wallpaper off the walls with our daughter, then only three years old. The year was 2004 and we were so excited by the possibilities of our beautiful new home. Time has since flown by—as it does.
This auspicious anniversary has given me the opportunity to look back at some of the articles I have written for Mohawk Valley Living over the years. The following excerpt is from “The Ties that Bind”, published in August of 2015 that I found particularly sweet:
“My husband and I moved here just over ten years ago and started our little farm with the idea that we would build a simpler life, doing the things that we loved. We left corporate jobs and steady paychecks, 401ks, paid vacations and employer-provided health insurance. We both enjoyed what most people would call “Success”…careers, travel, and steady advancement. But something was missing. My commute into work demanded that I leave home before our baby daughter woke in the morning, and my long day and return commute meant that she was asleep for the night before I returned. My job provided no true sense of ownership but offered plenty of stress. Was it really what I wanted?
Fast forward ten years to today. Balancing life and work has not necessarily sorted itself all out now that we are farming. In fact, we find ourselves in a never-ending battle to choose what is best both for our farm business and our family. And because the two are so thoroughly interwoven, perhaps it is even more difficult.
One of the most interesting challenges we have faced is defining what “Success” means to us. If I were to listen to many others, “Success” would mean selling our product in New York City, distributing regionally, or even nationally. What about national awards or winning a cheese competition? That certainly would be a sign of success. But what hole would that fill and to what end? Would it make us successful and ultimately, would it make us happy?
Fortunately, my husband and I made the decision fairly early on that we would produce food only for our immediate community. The decision was an entirely practical one at first: We simply didn’t produce enough food on our little farm to warrant traveling very far. But that small circle we drew on the map so many years ago—with barely a 30 mile radius—has proven to be a virtual mantra for our farm business. We want to be part of a healthy, local agricultural network that feeds its citizens. To be part of a community, and in that sense, playing a vital role in feeding that community, provides a greater feeling of accomplishment than any traditional definition of “Success” ever could.”
In many ways, not much has changed since I wrote those words. The concept of a work/life balance still eludes me, although I’ve grown to accept it if not completely embrace it. We still love being a part of a close community and feeding our neighbors delicious foods produced on our farm, although our distribution area has widened quite a bit over the years.
But what strikes me the most was my focus (at the time) on “success” and how to define it. It’s a bit of an old trope, but I’d love to go back to 43-year-old me and tell her not to worry so darn much. “Delight in the people around you,” I’d say. “Fill your days with honest work and your belly with delicious food. Keep doing what you love.” Above all, enjoy the ride…and try not to blink for fear of missing any bit of it!