Not a Bad Life

Two and a half days a week I spend hauling milk, washing aged cheese, stirring curds, packing soft cheese, "doing the dishes", squeegeeing the cheese house floor, readying coolers for market, feeding hens, collecting eggs, chasing runaways, forking goat poop from barn stalls, watering baby steers, talking to Jacob sheep, and serving as playground equipment for young goats (I would call them kids, but I don't want to somehow convey that I have children - which I do not). Barn swallows, lounging cats, one fuzzy bunny, two white and burr-covered farm dogs, laying hens producing white, brown, tan, blue, olive green and speckled eggs, buzzing hives of bees, three young steer, twenty four goats for milking (who are out at pasture all day and I hardly see), their offspring, five heritage pigs with the most ear piercing cry I have ever heard and the kindest farmer I have ever met... these are my daytime friends when I am at, what I like to call, my farm job.

Standing endlessly, and joyfully, in the cheese house to make farmstead goat cheeses, the fresh and the aged alike. Hauling milk from the milk room to the cheese house. Meandering into the 'valley' to feed and water the hens, collect their dreamily hued eggs and humorously wrangle the rebel escapee hens back into their fenced pasture. It all takes place at the most beautiful farm I have ever stepped foot on or even seen through the lens of farm photographs (which we all know can lend such a mystic, agrarian daydream feel to any cultivated or fenced land). It's no wonder the place is called Dreamfarm, because it truly is. And there's no wonder why such beautiful land and grass, kind people, sweet goats and hard work turn into some of the tastiest, most savory cheese I have ever been lucky enough to eat. (And no, I am not biased just because I have the great pleasure and privilege of eating it almost every day now.) And that's not to mention the Saturday mornings at the Westside Community Market, helping Diana sell this delicious cheese and the abundant cartons of eggs, talking with the smiling folks passing by and drinking basil lemonade shared by the farmers in the booth next store. (And really not to mention the involuntary nap that occurs after the bike ride home from market).

The farm job is a good one. An early morning pulling on cool and light clothes in preparation for a long day in the humid cheese house. A thirty minute drive, through Madison and beyond, and past grassy roadsides with hilly, tree covered landscapes. An easy drive, still full of appreciation and excitement for the day's work ahead. I love the farm job. In part because I love the work, the environment and the people I get to spend my day with. In part because I know it's another piece in the puzzle to having my own green valleys, rebel hens, barn swallows and all the mischief it entails...one day. By the end of the day (which is not the end of Diana's day, as she still has chores and the evening milking ahead of her, and all the business of running a farm that goes on once the sun turns off) I am sore, tired, blistered, dirty, smelly and grateful. I can't get enough, and I wouldn't trade it for anything.

Photos can't even do justice to the view over the alfalfa field valley.

Three days of the week are filled with the following: desk sitting, computing, typing, phone calling, e-mailing, strategizing, and not being outside. This is what I call my office job. Admittedly, that sounds pretty lame compared to the farm job, although I bet that depends a bit on your perspective. However, as far as office jobs go, this is my dream job too. I spend my days coordinating farm to school efforts in the Great Lakes Region with the National Farm to School Network. I have the pleasure of talking with people running farm to school programs at the state, local or school level and helping them connect to whatever resources they need to be helpful. And I get to work on national policy issues surrounding farm to school, working to support farmers from the other end of the system: by creating more markets for local and regional producers. Not a bad deal either. And I get to work in a department with some of the neatest people who are working on some pretty dang cool sustainable agriculture projects.

I love both of these opportunities, and the balance they provide throughout the days. Office days bookended by days on the farm or at market are not a bad deal and there is surely no room for boredom. My dream has been, for a number of years now at least, to be a part time farmer and a part time farm to school policy maker. It's hard to believe that balance can actually be true, and that I get to live that dream for now. But, if you were to ask me on a farm job day if I'd rather be at the office job, you'd probably never hear me utter 'yes'. There is something magical about being on the land, carrying buckets of goat's milk or being covered in manure that I just can't resist.