I did not grow up in the country. Though in the name of full confession, I did not grow up in a city either. I was born and raised in Holland, a suburban home to roughly 35,000 Dutch reformers on the shores of Lake Michigan. That being said, I have always preferred skyscrapers and sidewalks to wide open spaces and dirt roads.
But this all changed when I met the Dairy Man. He was a business major trying to decide if he wanted to move to Chicago to work in the stock market (yes yes yes!) or go back home to the family dairy farm to make a name for himself. As you’ve probably surmised from the title of this blog, he chose the latter.
So here we are—one farmer, one urbanite, one high-strung border collie, and one baby boy—on a dairy farm in the middle of rural Michigan trying to build a life together. I traded my stilettos for rubber boots and am slowly learning what it means to be a modern farm wife. The nearest Starbucks is 45 minutes away from this Smalltown, but wouldn’t trade my life with the Dairy Man for the world.
So come along. But mind your step. Yes, that is a cow pie.