When I was in the process of buying the farm in 2007 it was with no other thought than to have room to breathe, to run, to ride our horses, to watch and wonder at the star and sky scapes.
‘You do know the river floods?’ was the first question old George asked me when we spoke to him about doing some tractor work and cleaning up almost a decade of neglect. ‘Of course,’ I retorted, thinking ‘does he think I’m an idiot . . .?’
Little did I guess that my plan to be alone and write was to be swiftly shattered – by love. The best laid plans and all that . . .
Ged came to assess the solar and something happened to our souls. Destiny struck and our lives were inextricably intertwined.
How little we knew . . . about the rapidly rising floodwaters that could cut us off for ten days; about the tractor hours needed to slash all the weeds; about the animals we would love and lose; about the wild dogs howling from the hilltops and hounding our beloved sheep and ducks.
About the beautiful boy who was soon to bless our lives and how that would change everything . . .
I had been a vegan for over 20 years. I soon had Ged eating that way too and he lost a heap of weight and was healthier as a result. We set up a wonderful veggie garden and as far as possible ate home grown. I wondered whether I would know or be able to acknowledge if my son was a carnivore. Would I raise him as a vegetarian or would I listen to his soul needs?
One day I was in the kitchen and he was sitting in his baby chair eating and I knew, with a sudden bolt of consciousness, that he was a carnivore to his bones. That meant we had to either buy or grow meat. And a whole different journey began . . .
Those little bodies – so precious, so pure. Most parents want to protect that purity, to feed and nurture their children with the most wholesome, natural food they can get. We were no different. We just had a bit more room . . .