A (kind of) farmer plays FarmVille

Tue, 05 Oct 2010 21:20:00 +0000

When I was 11, my parents moved our family from a tract of raised ranches to a 20-acre farmstead. My father was a former fresh-air boy from Queens who, at 40, longed for a farm. My mother loved animals. And we had our share of them: chickens, sheep, cows, turkeys, guinea hens, pigs, geese. I won't lie. At that tender age, I struggled to adjust. At one point the hens multiplied into a flock of nearly 300. Getting in and out of that coop required great skill and courage, while herding sheep called for agility and concentration while carrying a pail of feed at least three yards ahead. Most lessons were learned by trial and error, like the lazy day I relaxed my gaze from the flock, tripped over a boulder and tumbled all the way down to the barn -- dozens of hooves parading over my body.

Since then I haven't kept my own farm animals, but I've grown food on and off in one manner or another for well over a decade. My first bona fide vegetable garden was sown with great purpose and harvested with equal passion. Its footprint, well exceeding that of my small home, was ambitious even for an experienced gardener. After a childhood of raising, caring for and eating farm animals, the craft of producing my own food was deep in my blood.

Salon.com > Suzanne Kelly

A (kind of) farmer plays FarmVille