We always called it "The Farm" though it hardly fit the term's traditional description. But back in 1974, when my husband, Don, and I bought 40 acres "Up North" near Emily, Minn., it seemed easiest for our city friends to understand by calling it that. We were living in Evanston, Ill., at the time.
After all, we couldn't claim it as a cabin on a lake or a woodland lodge. It was essentially a two-room house and a couple outbuildings set on a slight hill surrounded by 15 acres of fields and another 25 of woods. Although our house wasn't much to look at, it had the basics: electricity, liquefied petroleum gas, plumbing and a four-party phone line! And the land itself? Well, it held so much promise — for growing vegetables, raising chickens, and observing all manner of wildlife.
During our first year at The Farm, we transformed and expanded the dwelling into a home for our eventual family of five. Local folks helped with the foundation, exterior frame and roof, but we did all the rest, nailing up the wallboard, taping, sanding, painting. We decided on rough-sewn cedar from the local mill for the siding and hired two local college boys to stain it. As I picked up their empty cans after their first day, I noticed all the pigment at the bottom and realized they had not stirred the contents of the can. We finished the staining ourselves.
What had attracted us to the land bore out. We planted a three-quarter acre garden and grew everything from asparagus to zucchini. No visitor left without a head of savoy cabbage or a bag full of Bush Blue Lake beans. Our three boys learned the importance of tilling, weeding, watering and mulching. The garden was surrounded by the fields, always seeming to encroach, though we had a local farmer harvest the hay each summer. In return, he got the fodder for his livestock and we got a couple bales for mulch.
The woods were a constant source of exploration and, for the boys, the place for a tree fort in summer. In winter, we were drawn to its silence, broken only by our skis breaking new trails or our voices identifying fresh animal tracks. Though Don and I did some grouse hunting, we generally viewed wildlife as something to be observed, studied and admired — and in Don's case, photographed. Fish were another matter — we fished for crappie, bass and northern on the small lakes within a couple miles of The Farm.
The Farm will always hold a special place in our family's history. We lived there full time until our oldest was ready for school, then we split our time with our Minneapolis neighborhood. As the boys grew into adulthood and as our own careers led Don and me in another direction, it became obvious that we no longer could keep up the house and land. In 1997, we gave up The Farm, but we took comfort in that we had been diligent stewards of those 40 acres and in many ways we had improved upon them. More importantly, living on the land had improved us. It seemed only right that we pass The Farm on to another family, to enrich and be enriched by its bounty and wonders.
Elaine Phillips, Minneapolis
