Three years ago, I was living in Los Angeles. I thought it would never change. I enjoyed the fast pace of the city and knowing that there were shows, movies, and concerts available to me at any time. If you had asked me then if I would ever give it all up to move to the country, I would have told you, “No way!”
But then, something tragic happened. My beloved Grandmother, Lillian Rose, passed away. She lived on a farm in rural Illinois, where she had lived since she was a little girl. Click here to learn more about farms. I used to love visiting her when I was a kid. When I would fly back home for a visit, the first thing we would do would be to pack up and drive down to see Grandma.
As we drove up to the property, memories of my childhood would come flooding back to me. I remember Grandma’s pet dalmatian, Dotty, who was beautiful but very aggressive. She would nip at my heels if she thought I was moving too slowly. I even have a scar on my arm from one of her livelier days!
Simpler Times
There were so many things I loved about the farm when I was young. I remember being very small and being allowed to help tassel the corn in the fall. It was hard work, but I was proud to contribute like all of my aunts and uncles and older cousins. I still remember when Grandma told everyone that the corn on the table was corn that I had picked. I was nearly bursting with pride.
It seemed less fun when I learned what we did with all the shucked corn leaves. There was no wasting on the farm. All of the tassels got reused as toilet paper. Wow! What a shock. Here: https://kansasfarmfoodconnection.org/spotlights/fun-facts-about-corn-harvest you can find out more information about harvesting corn.
Not every crop was quite as laborious. Grapes, for example, were an amazing treat. I would spend hours wandering along the vines, picking off the ripest, juiciest looking ones and spitting the seeds into the ground. No grocery store bag of red seedless grapes could compare to the ones grown in the warm Illinois sunshine on Grandma’s farm. They were an easy crop to pick, even for my little hands.
As a special treat, we would get to have slices of Grandma’s award-winning tomatoes on sandwiches. They were so sweet, and when I would bite into one the juice would run down my chin.
All of these memories came flying back to me when I heard the news: Grandma, knowing my husband and I would never be able to afford the outrageous real estate prices in Los Angeles, decided to do me one final, great kindness by leaving me the farm.
Big Changes
At first, I thought it was crazy. How could I, a city girl who was used to having her food dropped off at her apartment door, live on a farm? It was a lot to take care of and I knew next to nothing about it. But how could I say no to Grandma’s last wish? How could I ignore such a precious gift?
So, we did what anyone would do. We got on a plane and flew to Illinois and started looking over the property with a critical eye. Maybe we could sell it and use the proceeds towards a home of our own in the city.
But once we got there, we fell in love.
Everything I remembered about being on the farm seemed even bigger and better after living in a tiny apartment for so long. The smells, the clean air, the privacy. What had started as a trip to appraise our assets quickly became a trip to plan our move.
The two of us walked around the house and property, taking in the beauty of what we had been fortunate enough to acquire. Within two months, we were back on the farm with all of our belongings, ready to start fresh.
Culture Shock
There were a few things that were hard for us to adjust to. Being accustomed to the constant noise of the city, at first the quiet was deafening! Then, once we got used to the quiet of the day, the sounds of the country at nighttime were overwhelming. Wolves and coyotes howling, owls hooting, and all manner of sounds conspired to keep us up at night!
It was also an adjustment getting used to how small the area was. Everybody knew everybody else. I would walk up to a cash register, money in hand, and be surprised by how much the cashier knew about me. There are no secrets in a town this small.
One of the most difficult adjustments we had to make was to our well water. Both my husband and I had always lived in places that took water from the city water supply. I had memories of the bad taste of Grandma’s water that proved to be just as true as I remembered.
It was hard to get used to. While city water had a certain metallic taste to it, the well water was something else entirely. It smelled – and tasted – like rotten eggs.
At first, I thought it was unsafe to drink. We started buying water in town in big plastic jugs, which I hated. What a drain on the environment! But then, after doing a little research, I learned that well water is typically safer to drink than the city water. The taste in our water came from excess amounts of sulfur in the ground.
It was perfectly safe to drink, but not tasty. So I decided to get a water filter for sulfur and was amazed by the results. Now our water smells and tastes clean and pure. It tastes so good that we’re thinking of expanding the filtration system to our entire property.
Living on a farm sure comes with a lot of adjustments. I never thought that the biggest one would be one so essential to life – our water. But finding a solution was fast, inexpensive, and convenient. If the idea of drinking well water is the only thing holding you back from taking the leap, know that there are a lot of options available to you.
So, do you need a water filter for sulfur? No, the water is more than likely just fine to drink. But if you want one, there are many options available. To me, it was worth the investment.
And just in case you were wondering, we still use toilet paper.
