NOPE, IT’S NOT that I’m a famous sister (remember her older sister, Zsa Zsa? Was there ever a better name?) since as you all know by now, I am an only (though hardly lonely). Nor am I Hungarian, and I’ve only been married once (though there’s still time, I suppose, I think I’m unlikely to make it to Eva’s lofty achievement: five trips down the aisle).
Remember Green Acres? You might say that’s the story of my life.
Two years ago, almost exactly, my family and I moved from a home in Hollywood, where I had lived for the previous 16 years, to a farm in a (very) rural area of upstate New York. Call it a midlife crisis, call it insane–you might be right on both counts. My husband (who online, is usually known simply as The H) and I decided to get out of our urban life for something utterly different.
Fresh eggs, from our chickens
Instead of rats in the palm trees in the backyard, we have hens (and a rooster) in the barn. Though we still have coyotes, we also now have horses. Rather than a postage-stamp sized city yard, we now have woods, fields, and even a pond and creek. We thought, rightly I think, that this environment would be paradise for the River (our son, 7) and the Rock (our daughter, soon-to-be 4.) What we didn’t know, though we had theories, was how it would affect all four of us to move from an unqualified ratrace to a place where the fastest moving thing is the runoff from the melting snow (or a horse bolting from the paddock–but that’s another story.)
The barn, in winter
We didn’t know much of anything about living in a small, SMALL town, and my poor husband, a Southern California native, had absolutely no idea what he was getting into moving to a place with five months of winter.
With the seasons about to (thank heavens) change, I thought it was only fair to share this part of my story, the story of one of the biggest changes I’ve ever made, with the sisters. Stay tuned for more about my life in Green Acres, and about the new sisters I’ve found here.
And how about you? Have you ever upended your life? Would you do it again? Tell us.
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Hi Paige,
Funny I thought I was Eva Gabor, maybe I’ll just be “Mrs. Douglas”!
Five years ago “Farmer Keith” & I bought a small farm and then got married on it. Our wedding song was the theme to Green Acres. Two years later we both had quit our jobs in cancer research to farm full time. Neither one of us came from a farming background, Keith is from Queens NY originally and had never been on a tractor. Needless to say we’ve learned a lot these last three years growing hay, raising chickens, goats and one steer – we keep a blog for our “city friends” amusement. This makes my fourth upending life change and I think I’ll stick with it for at least 20 more years.
Really, rats in the palm trees? Rats in the subway, sure, but I never knew that about LA!
The last 9 (!) years spent in CC is the longest I’ve ever lived in one place and the 7 years before in NYC was the longest before that.
I was a military brat so I actually get a bit itchy if anywhere too-too long. I’d love to try a couple years in a foreign country someday.
I’ve been a country girl all my life–I was actually born in a house with no electricity or running water, where my parents had been living off the land for over 10 years! When we moved to The Berkshires (I was just 3), it was a huge change for us, too. But the inverse of what you’re describing here. Funny how one family’s country mouse experience is another family’s town mouse experience!
But I’ve always loved ‘Green Acres.’ The theme song was a mainstay in my childhood for about five years…
Megan–I love your blog! Thanks so much for stopping by and leaving your tracks. I’ll definitely be reading. And, by the way, you’re much further along the farming adventure than I am, though I definitely have goat envy.
Millie–Yep. Rats in the palms, rats in the ivy, rats, rats, rats. Mice, too, of course, but rats are more dramatic :-) Give me a heads up before you decamp for some exotic locale, please.
Anastasia–I had no idea about your off-the-grid early childhood. I hope you’ll tell us more!
What I loved about Green Acres were the local characters. We lived at the end of a mile long dirt road without electricity or running water, on 100+ green and wooded acres. This was in Saranac, a small town in the north western Adirondacks. When my son Teva (pronounced Tayva) was born, his dad, Peter, announced it at our local Agway. The owner, Bob, said, “Whatya gonna call him, eh?” Peter responded, “Well, I think, we’ll call him Bob.” None of the local business men from the gas station/repair shop to the town workers, ever used Teva’s name. They always referred to him as little Peter.