Those of us who grow up on a farm understand all the aspects of farming and at times wish we could live in town or in the city. When I was young I thought how cool it would be to just walk to a friends to play whenever I wanted, not needing to plan a ride to town, being able to go with friends to the store, walk to the swimming pool just for something to do, even learn to ride your bike on pavement. Poor me, I was the country kid and there was never nothing to do, so I thought. My town friends were opposite they thought living on a farm would be so much fun, playing on the bales, looking for kittens in the old barn, cool places to make forts, wading in the creek and the list goes on. As the old saying goes “the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence”. Because of diploma writing today, I have invited my mother to do a guest blog and talk about her experience of being the city girl who moved to the farm.
Words from my mom . . .Kathy
A “City” girl, never really thought about it, I had been raised in Calgary, and finished up my last two years of high school in Airdrie, so the closest thing I came to Agriculture were the “Country” kids in school. Most of my friends were from town, and some acreage kids.
After high school, it was back to the big city for me to go to college, obtain a Business Diploma, and off to work with big Career plans. I was working with the Canadian Bank Note Company (yes printing money), in the securities division, securities being stocks, bonds, and prospectus’. My days were spent in board rooms with corporate lawyers being the go between the lawyer and the printer. Great job, I loved it, and was on the first step of a long corporate ladder. So of course, my vision of my future was to probably marry a successful guy in a “Suit”. Yes, I had it all figured out. I went on some amazing trips, spent weekends with friends, my life was, I guess, on track.
Life being on track, well . . . . throws you some curves, just to make it interesting. So, an evening out with my girlfriends, at a Country Nightclub, changed my life completely. Yes, I met my husband, very handsome, wonderful smile, lived “North of Red Deer” – a match made in heaven. He left out just a bit – he was a farmer. Not that it was a bad thing, but most “City Girls” have a very different view of a farmer. My first experience of “Farm” life was dropping in at the Calgary Bull Sale after work, well, I made quite the impression at the barns. Probably should have left my fur collared coat and high heel shoes at home.
Well, this “farm boy” captured my heart, and a move North, to Ponoka (yes he left that part out too), was in my future. I could do this! I had the country gear, the boots, that had never seen manure before, the cowgirl shirts, no worries, how different could it be. Well, was it different? Not really, I just looked at life a bit different now. For example, the first Valentines gift my husband bought me, were steel toed work boots – my not be romantic to some, but this told me that he wanted me to be a part of everything in his life. Again over the moon!
My career continued, no problem, I managed to get a management position running a division of a printing company in Central Alberta. So . . . I had to wear rubber boots from the house to the car in the spring, with a dress on, carrying my expensive shoes. No matter, I accepted it, but the look on my mothers face the first time she saw me like that, well . . . priceless. Her vision of me working the corporate world was yes, “Vogue” attire – and they did not have the fancy rubber boots they have out now.
Being a City Girl, you became the butt of much hidden laughter for years. The first trip my in-laws took away, I was in charge of feeding the chickens and gathering the eggs. No problem, how hard could it be? Well, I am sure the old local Veterinarian still laughs about the gal who called him, because she left a couple of hens out overnight, and the free range roosters had their way with one poor chicken – she had no feathers left on her back, and the other hens had basically given her a scarlet letter, they were pecking her to death. The vet very calmly told me to try tar, it didn’t work, and I was the cause of one dead chicken.
Another time when my husband was away, I told him that I would help his dad feed in the evening when I got home. Good responsible wife that I was. Well, my father in law mentioned that he did not need any help, but of course I insisted, I told him I would “pail” feed the bulls, I had watched my husband do it many times. So as he walked away, he yelled back “they get 18 pails” – No kidding! I only weighed about 100 lbs, and to balance the 25 lb pails you had to carry two at a time. Yep, I ate my words that day.
I learned very quickly, that if you wanted to become the master of a job, just complain about how someone is doing theirs. The first time my husband decided to mow the lawn for me, I was mortified when he arrived on the riding lawn mower, with no bagger. City folk are very particular about their lawns. I had been mowing with the push mower and bagger, and had managed to get a very lush crop – he couldn’t use the riding version. So if I wanted it mowed the fussy way, it was now my job. Funny after 20 years, I still like it nice, but will settle for less just to have someone else take their turn. Question too much about the bookwork, and yes, you just got another job. Tried the gardening route, but I was not diligent enough to keep up with the weeds, figure I am doing my in-laws a huge favor, they don’t have to look at the weeds, or help with them, and they are quite willing to share their garden with us.
I actually could go on forever, there are always many very funny stories that we can laugh about with this city girl on the farm, and I think I have adapted quite well – I still have a few periodic mishaps, even after 20 years living on a farm. In fact just this year I managed to “shoot” a hole through the garage door - - - yes you can ask me about it if you see me sometime. Annie Oakly I am not!
My extended city family has often given us much to laugh at too, now that I am considered a farm wife. My mom once asked my husband why all the Ewes (Female Sheep) had grease marks on them. Well my husband Mark explained that we put a marker on the ram to know who has been bred. My mom did actually asked "Do they really need lubricant". I will leave it at that.
Living on a farm, raising three beautiful, very independent children, and being a “farmers wife” has been wonderful for me. My corporate ladder has changed a bit, but I never stopped working, running my own home business for the past 15 years has been very successful. I get to have coffee and lunch with my husband every day, and if I need to get away from it all, I don’t need to go camping, I just step out to my back deck, and can look at a view that goes on forever. Have I learned a lot, sure have! Could I move back to the city, not in a million years!
~Kathy
So today, my nerve racking diploma was surprisingly not as hard as I expected. Thanks to my countless prayers, the source was economic and I just about jumped out of my chair when I read it. The three sources that we had to analyze and relate had to do with pushing a countries ideologies upon another nation.
~Carling
