The Old Land of my Fathers – discovering my agricultural heritage.

Image from The Telegraph, credit to Martin Pope.

As a child I would wake up every morning to the sounds of the cows waiting to go into the dairy to be milked; throwing open my curtains to see escaped cows destroying our garden.

I remember the rich, sickly sweet warm smell of the milk formula given to the calves in winter; the smell of silage in the summer.

You don’t realise what you have until its gone.

I don’t remember them going, that’s the problem. They were there, and then I remember that they weren’t.  I don’t remember having a conversation with my parents, I don’t remember the trailers coming to get them. We had cows. Then we didn’t.

My best memories of childhood are on the farm, amongst the animals and machinery. The land is in my blood. The whole family farms yet I know nothing about the land & livestock and I feel quite ashamed of how absolutely clueless I am.

I’ve never really done ‘New Year’s Resolutions’ but I think that this is an important one for me to try.  My father learnt from his family how to manage a farm but I don’t have that option, therefore, I am taking the academic road and giving myself two years to read my way to ‘Farmer’s Daughter’ title. I will wear my muddy wellies with pride.

Every two months I plan on tackling a new area of agriculture and after each rotation I will upload a blog telling you everything that I have learned. My knowledge will be inaccurate and incomplete and the farmers out there will laugh.

But at least it’s a start.

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