When Did It Start For You?

When did the farming/homesteading dream/desire come to you? Perhaps not all of you have the same desire as I, which is to one day have my own farm and all that comes with that package (yes, that includes fallen trees, flooding, and overdue bills [wink]). But for those of you who do, when you think back to your past, what made you want to pursue such a lifestyle that the majority of society looks down upon? Did the thought come upon you like a spring storm? Or did it happen gently, over a period of time, like autumn leaves floating quietly down?

I remember when it happened to me. I was 12. Actually, it was my 12th birthday. We were in Michigan, visiting my grandparents, and my grandpa was regaling tales of when he was a boy. He grew up on a family farm, and they used draft horses. All I remember from that day, was his story about his favorite gray gelding named 'Prince'. If I remember correctly, the other draft was named 'Teddy', but I could be mistaken...

I listened to those stories in awe, and knew in my heart that I wanted to follow in my grandpa's footsteps, and  have my own farm and draft horses.

Before that day, I had never really entertained the thought of farming. Being a vet was my main priority. I would still love to pursue having a DVM one day, but that's on a back burner. My grandpa planted a seed that day, and there's no hope now. The dream ever calls. It must be followed. Sometimes with dogged determination and iron will; other times I can relax and grin, knowing that my boat is floating lazily down the river of dreams. I've got waterfalls ahead, but I'm not there yet. For the moment, I'll taste the nectar of small achievements. I'm gettin' there.

For years after that day, I dreamed about a powerful gray gelding named Prince. I saw him in my dreams. Felt him, smelled the horse sweat. Felt the leather harness. He was still just a dream to me, but he became an icon in my mind. A symbol. 

Four years ago, someone gave us a box of old Breyer horse figures. Amidst the scarred and battered forms of well loved toy equines, at the bottom, there was a gray Percheron. That little toy horse sits in my closet, and every time I open the door, I see my dream horse that has evolved into a touchable figure.

We've come one step of the way. 

Someday, I will own a gray Percheron gelding. I will name him Prince. And I will send a picture of him to my grandpa.