I grew up around dairy farms and have a consequent affinity for the rural life. Since childhood I have had a secret desire to have a farm of my own. Working as I do in the software industry has intensified that desire in the last few years. Accordingly when my wife and I decided to move away from the hectic pace of Long Island one of the requirements for the new place was a little elbowroom. We looked at many different places, but on my wife’s birthday (never mind which one) in January of 2000 we found the perfect place. The views were great, it had a pond (one of her desires), it had a great shop where I could putter around, and it had land–fifty-seven acres of it! As we walked around the place we were awestruck. It had all the “must-haves” and nearly all the “nice-to-haves” on our list.

I immediately bought a tractor with a snowplow so that I’d be able to keep the driveway passable in the winter. The tractor had to be a real farm machine so that it could take all kinds of attachments. Once we were settled the hunt for farm implements began. I’d “need” a hay baler of course, and a rake, and a cutter. A dirt plow would let me work the land, but I’d also need a harrow–disc would be preferable, but spring-tooth would do. The list went on. My wife meanwhile dreamt of sheep, or goats; and maybe a cow and a few chickens. We’d be regular farmers!

I liked the idea so much that I generally brought the tractor down from the barn to the house on weekends in the warmer months. It’s not that I needed the tractor handy, I just wanted an excuse to drive it at least a couple of times each week. I looked for reasons to plow the ground and fit the plowed section with the old spring-tooth harrow my father had lying around for some unknowable reason. I’d have baled hay if I had the requisite cutter and rake. It’s absolutely ridiculous!

To have my farm I had to commute two-and-a-half hours each way every day. To have my farm I had to make a strong commitment to mowing eight-acres of lawn and cutting fallen trees and myriad other chores. To complicate matters, I left home around 4:45 each morning and never returned earlier than 7:00pm; often it was 8:00pm, during the week. That left weekends and the occasional hour or so at night. I barely had any time. If I had animals or the farm became an income vehicle, I simply couldn’t have kept up.

It was fun to play on my virtual farm, but I ultimately had to realize it was just a hobby. Now we live on a more manageable 1.23 acres near the edge of town.