It's march and something's in the air...

I like teaching – it's fun and I get to work with kids – but at the end of the day, it's not what I really want to do.

I want to be a farmer.

“But Stu?” you ask, “aren't you already a farmer?”

Well dear reader, you are technically correct. I do spend my evenings and weekends and summers farming. Sometimes my mornings too (including one memorable morning last week, complete with forty below wind chill and long strings of profanity produced by yours truly).

But that’s not really farming. I want to get up in the mornings and check the weather and feed the cattle and go about my chores and not have to leave for another job. My father still does the lion's share of the farm work - in the end I'm just playing make believe.

The fact of the matter is this – under provincial and federal governments that openly support industrial farming techniques it gets pretty hard to make a go of it on the old family farm. Not to say that our farm isn't up to the challenge – in our community my family is one of the few that's been able to live by farming alone – but I know it wouldn't be smart to give up that outside income just yet.

There is light at the end of the tunnel, however. (My pessimistic self says beware of the light, but just for you, dear readers, I shall take the happier option.)

The movement to save the environment may, by accident or design, end up saving the family farm. For a dyed in the wool tree-hugger like me it’s a beautiful thing to see these two parts of my life come together. Slow food and hundred mile diet - your names are like music to the ears.

With that, dear readers, I take my leave. I need to throw on my roper boots and a flannel shirt – head outside – have a look around.

Take a deep breath of that fresh air.

Bull shit?

Ah! The manure pile is thawing out.

Spring is on its way and a new chapter in this farm boy's life may have just begun.