The First Year with the Farm

Last April, when our grandmother, Lillie Creech, died, my sister and I received her farmland and we began the process of caring for it long distance. First steps were mostly legal ones – probating the will, closing accounts, finding insurance, and registering the farm. And the goals were short-term. We needed an agricultural tax exemption on the land, so something had to be growing by January 2008.

The property around the house was terribly overgrown. Lil had not been in any condition to take care of it for some time. When we grandchildren were there, she didn’t want us working, but visiting with her. And she was just a little conservative with her money and would not pay anyone to do it. So a neighbor pitched in as much as possible. But the spring of 2007 had been unusually rainy one, and everything had grown like a jungle.

Around and behind the house, between the driveway and the fields, and along the barbed wire fence on the road giant ragweed towered over everything. Paperleaf mulberry, an invasive species not native to the area, grew in thick stands behind the house. A huge limb on the big live oak by the house was nearly touching the roof. Small mesquite trees were emerging all over the property. The pear tree on the side of the house was surrounded by cacti and small bushes. All this was begging for attention.

My grandmother was buried on Monday morning, April 23, 2007. That evening another intense storm moved through the area and blew down a large chinaberry tree onto the house, breaking the corner of the roof. The house itself was filled with all my grandmother’s things and would have to be cleared out. The job in front of us was formidable. And we lived four hours away.

I found someone to remove the chinaberry tree and a carpenter to repair the roof. In June, a dozen cousins joined my sister and me in our annual reunion and worked hard to clear things out of the house, garage, and storage shed. It would have taken us a year to do it alone.

From July on, I made monthly pilgrimages to the place to attempt to bring some order out of the chaos and wildness of the place. I purchased a pickup, rented a walk-behind brush hog, bought a chain saw, rented a wood chipper, and made a score of trips to the Wilson County Dump. The big 42” Murray riding mower made two trips to the John Deere dealer for repair.

The property around the house began to take shape, but the fields remained an issue. They were covered in thick forbs, native plants, and Bermuda grass. They needed to be cleared and planted.

H.B., a 24-year-old farmer across the road asked about leasing the land to grow winter wheat. We negotiated an arrangement and soon the fields were clear, sown, and awaiting the first crop. The wheat story will be a separate post.

The first year was filled with hard and rewarding work. I anticipated each trip to the farm, worked harder physically than I had in ages, and left reluctantly to return to the traffic and noise of the city. Each time I went I saw a bit more progress on the place. Neighbors have become acquaintances and then friends. The possibilities of the place are clearer than they were. And after a year I want to see the place a productive farm more than ever.

The biggest problems now have nothing to do with overgrown property, but with my own ignorance about what I’m doing and what I’m getting into. The learning curve has been steep, but energizing. But that’s another post as well.