This Friday marks the eleventh anniversary of our move to the farm. In 1999, we went to the bank on the last Friday in July and signed the mortgage. We borrowed our banker’s pickup truck and trailer and began pulling load after load of stuff from the house friends had generously shared with us on the opposite side of the county. It was hot – and not just a little bit hot, but record-setting hot and humid, the sort of weather that leaves you soaked with sweat the moment you step out of doors. The sort of weather when, if you grab hold of a loose edge of wallpaper and start to pull, the wallpaper just peels off. Which we did in the abandoned 150-year-old farmhouse we moved into, where the “decorative” wallpaper strip in the kitchen – depicting cartoon character farm animals – covered wall, doors, and refrigerator.
My in-laws came with their weedwhip and opened up a path to the front door of the house, then took the kids to Nordic Fest while we painted the kitchen, pulled up the green shag carpeting in the bedroom to reveal gorgeous hardwood floors, and swept up the mouse leavings. We continued to make trips back and forth to our friends’ house, loading the truck and trailer up high, packing the minivan full, then pulling into one door of the drive-through barn, offloading everything, and pulling out the other side.
One corner of the house was held up by a scissors jack, like you would use to change the tire on your car. Most of the windows had been broken. The cow shed was so unstable that we wouldn’t let the kids play in it. The granary was chock full of junk. The barn hadn’t been cleaned out in I don’t know how long. The two chicken houses lacked roofs, and a tree grew out of one of them. And everything that wasn’t planted to corn was, more or less, covered in thistles.
We bought a Farmall 504 tractor that was older than we were, a blade for clearing snow from our long driveway, and a rototiller to go on the tractor. We bought a new furnace (the old one was missing), a new water heater (the old one was broken), a new refrigerator (the old one was broken), and a new cookstove (the old one was missing). It took a couple of years before we got around to replacing the scissors jack, which, after all, seemed to be doing a perfectly adequate job.
But, we made due, especially with some help from our friends and neighbors.
Eric, who still does the occasional bit of field work and baling for us, agreed to take his corn crop off of one field early, so we were able to build two greenhouses that first fall. He also baled up some of the bromegrass from two expired CRP fields, providing bedding for the laying hens and mulch for the garlic. I’m not quite certain if he knew what to make of us then.
Keith, who rented the farm next door to ours, repaired the pasture fence so his sheep stopped coming to visit.
Jim, who went to school with Keith in the old one-room schoolhouse that used to be on the property, and is now retired, filled us in on the history, gave me my first lesson in tractor repair, lent us a drill press for modifying our new greenhouses, and brought his tractor down to mow some of the thistles.
Our farm management group provided feedback on seeding the upper fields to pasture, and helped us build one of the greenhouses. When they left, two of the women left in tears, because of how much work we had ahead of us, and how little chance they thought we had of succeeding. (I only found this out a couple of years ago. If I had known at the time, maybe I would have been too scared to try!)
Friends from Decorah cheerfully helped us cover the greenhouses, even though the second one got covered as a snow storm blew in the day after Thanksgiving. Nobody complained. A contractor friend got us a good deal on some new windows, and helped us put them in for free. We installed a new woodstove, and our banker brought us a pickup-truck load of firewood. For free. Another friend asked what we needed to really get this whole Rock-Spring-Farm thing off the ground, and when we said we needed a logo and not to have to send somebody to work in town, he and his wife bought seven years of CSA shares for their employees and came to us with the Circle R logo we still use today.
Our neighbor, Jim, told me recently that everybody’s really proud of what we’ve accomplished here, turning this abandoned farm into something full of life and energy, and I told him that we couldn’t have done it without the help of people like him, and everybody else who pitched in to make it all work.

