Confessions of a serial mower - farming matters
Suffolkmum, that very expressive writer we all know and love (well I feel I know her) wrote yesterday about belonging and the place of birth.
I realise that I am very very lucky. I have been able, via marriage, to afford to stay in the county of my choice – on a farm in a village a mere 3 miles from the home of my birth. Not unusual in Suffolk, but very unusual I now realize in this day and age. You have to remember in Suffolk families, it’s the boys “wat gits” the farm!.- or certainly in our family. Primogeniture, thus it was ever so. I am the elder child, he is the son.
Offspring float off to university, year-outs and travel the world sprees, and end up all over the globe, many never to return. It was not always so.
I come from generations of farmers from East Anglia, my roots going back to 1066 and all that. My brother and I, we fear, will be the last of this clan who wish and can afford to farm.
We are asset rich and cash poor, as I have heard mention here before. The next generation do not seem to have that same sense of belonging, or wishing to cling on to the old farmstead at whatever cost, which we do.
My niece wishes to do law, and my nephew is a great sportsman, neither, barring an interest in a horse, particularly love or feel the need to keep the farm that we do. When we go, so does said family farm I imagine.
On the other hand, GOH and my stepsons adore our little farm, bought with hard earned and long saved cash, and would do anything to keep it, yet they are born townsfolk.
Ironic or what!
My father’s father, and his father before, and even my grandmother’s family all farmed nearby. My father went off to war at 17, fought in Europe, Monte Cassino and other such blood baths, and came back to the farm. He came back a sick and injured man, but has survived through nurture and nature and still farms at the age of 83.
His whole life is the farm, his world is the farm, his very being the farm. He drives me to distraction as you can imagine but I have to admire and stand in awe of this man. I know I have much of him in me, loath as I am to admit it. Our love of all things country.
Sod’s Law decreed that the one person that perhaps could have passed on the farming gene, couldn’t have children. Yours truly. Perhaps, God willing and a fair wind my inherited sons, and maybe even The Heiress will go on to keep our own little farming empire going. It’s the one thing they don’t make any more of, land.
I realise that I am very very lucky. I have been able, via marriage, to afford to stay in the county of my choice – on a farm in a village a mere 3 miles from the home of my birth. Not unusual in Suffolk, but very unusual I now realize in this day and age. You have to remember in Suffolk families, it’s the boys “wat gits” the farm!.- or certainly in our family. Primogeniture, thus it was ever so. I am the elder child, he is the son.
Offspring float off to university, year-outs and travel the world sprees, and end up all over the globe, many never to return. It was not always so.
I come from generations of farmers from East Anglia, my roots going back to 1066 and all that. My brother and I, we fear, will be the last of this clan who wish and can afford to farm.
We are asset rich and cash poor, as I have heard mention here before. The next generation do not seem to have that same sense of belonging, or wishing to cling on to the old farmstead at whatever cost, which we do.
My niece wishes to do law, and my nephew is a great sportsman, neither, barring an interest in a horse, particularly love or feel the need to keep the farm that we do. When we go, so does said family farm I imagine.
On the other hand, GOH and my stepsons adore our little farm, bought with hard earned and long saved cash, and would do anything to keep it, yet they are born townsfolk.
Ironic or what!
My father’s father, and his father before, and even my grandmother’s family all farmed nearby. My father went off to war at 17, fought in Europe, Monte Cassino and other such blood baths, and came back to the farm. He came back a sick and injured man, but has survived through nurture and nature and still farms at the age of 83.
His whole life is the farm, his world is the farm, his very being the farm. He drives me to distraction as you can imagine but I have to admire and stand in awe of this man. I know I have much of him in me, loath as I am to admit it. Our love of all things country.
Sod’s Law decreed that the one person that perhaps could have passed on the farming gene, couldn’t have children. Yours truly. Perhaps, God willing and a fair wind my inherited sons, and maybe even The Heiress will go on to keep our own little farming empire going. It’s the one thing they don’t make any more of, land.
We may yet win the war.
12 comments:
Lovely blog, indeed sad that farming may not continue in your family, couldn't vote on pink shoes yesterday, i will go for the middle ones
PS at least we will know you wont change the rules mid voting
I did like this blog - very true of many families I think.
As for shoes - the pointiest ones. Very good pink shoe selection, I approve. I got rid of loads and loads during the house moves, so I need to build the collection back up again. Am going to start wearing more heels and less wellies in a futile attempt at glamour.
Good now shall I try aganin! Ok umm forgotted what I was going to say but it was basically, it is such a wonderful thing to be rootedin ones familiar homelands here it is the norm and that I hope you may long continue to do so..sorry just blogged and feeling a bit sore in the head.. Liked blog agree with sentiments lament youth of today not apprecaiting thieir hertiage. I htink I will go and lie down now thank you.
Look I ofund my real commetn here you go..
Here in brittany only 3% of our commune come from outside. NO one leaves unless they have to, many who over their working life have to move to cities coming back everyweekend and retire here as this is home.
I know families who live in tiny flats in cities with no garden in order to keep big family home to which they return late every friday night and heave off late sunday night. They cannot understand me and my itchy feet nor why english people buy here when they arent from here!!
You and they are so incredibly lucky to have your roots. I hope you an keep it going.
I think I like the wedgies best.Toady
What a lovely blog.
Oh yes, and re all the discussion just want you to know PINK is SO your colour!!
Chicken Licken said you are one of here favourites and I think you will be one of mine too!! We both choose the pink pointed ones-much more glam than the pink wellies with flowers on that I have!!
warm wishes
xx
Oh, you've let us on now!! Lovely blog. I'm jealous of your deep Suffolk roots. I hope the sons or the heiress will want to continue with your farm; it must be so sad to see your family one fade away, after all that striving and hard work and experience. Must be true of so many families these days.
PS - thanks for the mention, I think we all know each other pretty well now, after all we've been through!
As ever dear Countrymousie, a truly wonderful blog. I have left a message on my page (at the bottom) re how to do a blog.
My granddaughter Katie-Rose who will be thirteen this year, has decided that she would like to do Law. She did originally want to be a Marine Biologist. Gosh - 1066,The Battle of Hastings, you have a lot of history there in farming Countrymousie, just thinking of different changes to farming since then. Camilla.xxx
How lovely that your farm goes back generations and is not owned by 'hobby farmers' who know nothing of the true grit of the people that have farmed all their lives. I must say Mousie looks set to stay a while longer x
Lovely blog!
Mousie - I am so glad to finally have found a minute to visit your rooms properly, apart from the horrible announcements I keep having to paste in - your recent ferreting has been simply amazing! The family history is fascinating too, and of course the lovely mousie pics! I am also one of the ones who cannot produce offspring and I know how you feel - but how wonderful that through GOH the interest in your own plot is continued. You are a very lovely Mousie indeed - I've seen the pics, and the shooooeees (sigh) - you simply would not believe the shoes I have worn and ruined in the ghastly peat up here!
By the way there is a pic of a mower on my latest which I am sure would make you very envious indeed. Or perhaps not!
Very interesting blog, Mousie. Amazing how much many of us have in common. My family settled on Cape Breton Island in 1745 after eons on a rock off the coast of Scotland. I left and married my husband - first generation in 8 to leave. We're putting our roots down deeply into the earth on this island - our children live here and I hope that they will be able to stay.
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