my name is becca and I am a farm wife.

Yesterday I was outside with Alden on my hip, wearing my Great Grandma Anders apron (Cathy, it's the one you and Chuckie bought for me at the auction at the Colorado family reunion...I wear it EVERY DAY) and was dumping a bucket of food scraps over the fence for the chickens.

I turned around and saw my neighbor's daughter running by. Her family is here from Boston for a summer vacation. She is in her final year of residency and was still flying at the end of her run, wearing a cute running outfit as she glided past. We waved and then I saw myself.

I was barefoot. With a baby on my hip. In an apron. Feeding chickens.

End Scene One.

Last night I stayed up late and made my third batch of soap. This time I made a peppermint scrub with ground oatmeal. I'm super pumped about it. And today I got up extra early to milk that goat again and do chores real quick before meeting girlfriends for breakfast. After breakfast my friend Kandi and I walked around our town's farmers market and saw tons of friends as well as a stand that is selling only goat milk soap. It was beautifully packaged, priced right and I excitedly talked to the woman selling, "don't you love it? Making soap is so addicting! I just made my third batch last night and I know I'm hooked. And milking the goat! Don't you just love your goat?!!" Her face went blank and confused, "I get my goats milk from a farmer...I'm busy enough with the soap that I can't milk a goat."  I shook my head encouragingly and told her how much I loved her booth. I really did. I was proud of her. And sincerely surprised that she sells goats milk soap and doesn't know the goats.

End Scene Two.

We are meeting friends for a picnic tomorrow at Lake Harriet and I began thinking through what we could bring.  So just hear this and then hear me out before you think I'm bragging. But by trying to use our own food and not spend an additional money I figured that I could bring the following without leaving the house: roast chicken, homemade potato salad, homemade dinner rolls, a jar of our pickles and a cake (a look in the pantry and I decided on tres leche cake). I happily put Great Grandma's apron back on and hit it for a whole afternoon in the kitchen.

And after I roasted the chicken, I pulled it apart for bbq sandwiches for the homemade dinner rolls (just got a bread machine at a garage sale for $3!) and put the carcass on the stove with celery, carrots and onion to make chicken stock. I made pork chops for dinner to eat with our apple sauce and the potato salad I made earlier. Also, I started a loaf of bread in the bread machine for breakfast tomorrow. And I sliced up the soap that I made last night.

What on earth.

I texted my folks, telling them half of what I just told you and said, "What have I become?!!" My dad replied, "a farm wife."

And it's hard to deny it. Especially when I ate my supper in my apron.

End Scene Three

I fear that all sounds boastful and braggadocios. But I am processing so much in my head right now and want to try to get it out. I feel like I have had a complete and utter farm girl transformation this summer- well, actually since the day I turned 37, the day Miracle was born. And I'm so surprised by it because we have been here for six years but it didn't happen until this year.

Here's why it mystifies me. If I wanted to become a lawyer, I would research law schools, fill out applications, pick a school, move to a new city and attend classes for four years. At the end of those four years I would study for the bar exam, and then look for a firm where I could begin my practice. I would be an attorney, just as I had intended from the start.

Now I know I have lived on this farm for six years. And I was obviously around when we built the barn and when we dreamed our dreams. But in my head it was still all Rory's work to be done. I would just enjoy the beautiful surroundings.

Instead I am up to my neck in it! Boom. I'm a lawyer! Just by living on the campus of the law school.

It started with bottle feeding Miracle every three hours, eight times a day, making that trek out to the barn in the middle of the night (in the dark of winter...), smiling at Darcy the goat and beginning to really love our animals. And then when I started milking Darcy I took over all of the morning chores. It just made sense. I'm outside anyway so why not feed and water the cats, chickens, sheep and goats.

And then! And then I started weeding the garden. Whaaaaa?!!! And I sincerely, truly, for real enjoy it. I have thought often how weeding a garden is a lot like sorting the junk drawer. I love organization, and a garden clear of weeds just looks so pleasing to me. Then I began preserving our food and have quarts of tomato sauce, pickles, gallon bags of frozen cut french fries, jars of raspberry freezer jam, and salsa.

I guess I'm just trying to explain that this wasn't my intention. I didn't go to law school intending to be a lawyer. And I didn't move to this farm thinking that one day I'd milk a goat. But here, in my 37th year of life, I have become a full-fledged farmer and I am still surprised by this fact.

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