Farm unfiltered No1 - farming, grieving & remembering my ‘why’

Welcome to our first ever farm unfiltered newsletter. Thank you ever so much for signing up. I had literal tears of joy and gratitude when I saw your names pop up. There are only a handful of you here at the moment, but that is still such a huge support - helping us cover some farm overheads and also giving me the inspiration to write more about life here.

I used to share a lot of myself on social media, but I seem to be slowly withdrawing from it of late - I have no desire to be a ‘farmfluencer’, or to have my face all over social media. It used to be a forum that I used to update friends and family on the farm, but as the page started to grow (I mean it’s still tiny, and I’m ok with that), sharing the inner workings of life here and my own emotional waves just didn’t feel aligned anymore. I’ll still use it as a way to communicate events, but this newsletter is now to become my farming dear diary. So here I am, and I’m so grateful to be here with you. So thank you endlessly.

For those of you I don’t know - I’ll start with a quick introduction. I’m Amy, an (almost) 40 year old mum of three wonderful daughters. I’m originally from the area and spent much of my childhood on this very patch of land - back then, it was my safe haven and I didn’t even know it. I’ve been connected to the ancient trees in the woodland since childhood, been comforted by the lapping stream for as long as I can remember and enjoyed so many sunsets, moons and stars here.

After years spent living abroad and chasing the next big corporate job and ‘thing’ (which generally always led to burnout, overwhelm, crippling hangovers, disconnection, and a yearning for a more simple way of life), the pandemic brought me ‘home’. In very dramatic style - on a government rescue flight out of India, with three small children in tow! A dream of a simple life we’d planned in Goa cut short, but the universe had another plan and I’m so very grateful for that.

For years I’d been talking to my dad about creating something on the land - something special, simple, for others to enjoy. My dad is an ideas man, a visionary - he’d tried numerous things here, numerous times, over the years, but got so deflated by planning battles and pro people who didn’t understand him, that he eventually threw down the balls and moved to Thailand in search of his own version of simplicity. So when I asked him if I could pick up those balls mid pandemic, he answered with a very big yes - thank you dad. I love you.

I don’t think I really knew what I was letting myself in for, or how hard it would be, but I can say for sure that I now have a shed load more empathy and compassion for my father.

Turning an empty field into an alpaca farm, a safe haven for others and a residential property has been no easy feat, especially on a shoestring budget (and whilst doing it in a way that is gentle on the land) - at times, I get frustrated at the pace things move at, at the hurdles, at the failures (learnings). I really am trying to spend more time focusing on the good, on all that has been achieved, on gratitude, on how far I’ve come. This is why I love seeing the place through new visitors eyes and looking back at old photos and memories of when there was nothing here at all.

A big challenge that I’m currently navigating is how I ensure that I don’t replicate my stressful corporate life here on the farm - not for myself, or for anyone else. If I'm honest with myself and you, I have been living in a chronic state of burnout for years. It’s unsustainable and my body has been crying out and sending signals for years.  I am finally learning to slow down, to find balance, to say no to projects and things that don’t feel aligned (even though that may and does disappoint people in the process), to prioritise and put myself first - this is a big focus for me this year.

I’ve also been in a deep shedding and grieving process - I’ve lost people, money, a job and shed things and thought patterns that are no longer serving me, but I’m also beginning to find myself. I know rationally that it was all supposed to happen just as it has unfolded, but it has been really very dark. I’ve struggled to see the light at times, but I feel as we move closer to spring, that little bursts of light are appearing. Thank f*ck.

My ex husband (and the father of my kids) Ian and I started the farm together - we walked the land and agreed on paddock design, agreed where to plant saplings, rescued chickens, ducks and goats, selected alpacas and learnt to care for them, built play houses and assembled tree swings and trampolines for our girls and watched them paddle in the stream, ride ponies and play in the woods. We had so many friends and family visit to camp and stay and help us build our dream.

Our values have generally always been aligned and we’d dreamt for years of a life off grid, working the land, watching our kids grow up outside, being little wildlings. Sadly we overlooked the fact that domestically we aren’t great together, and we don’t work that well together either. As the years went on, it was hurting both of us. Our hearts. Our souls. We tried for two years post separation to continue building a dream together, for the sake of the kids and our commitment to the land, but back in summer we decided that the time had come to part ways and for Ian to focus on new projects and independence.

That decision has hit me like a tonne of bricks - the guilt of being the one left to continue, the pain of the dream no longer being ‘ours to share’, having many regrets about things I could have done differently, and of course knowing how much Trev the alpaca would miss Ian. It’s been a turbulent and tricky time. A lot of grief, sadness and anger rearing its ugly head to be processed, but I’m still here, muddy, covered in shit and alpaca spit, and the show must go on.

Around the time that Ian was leaving the farm, two amazing women stepped in to pick me up out of the alpaca shit (literally), to provide some much needed structure, focus, farm support and unconditional love - Carly and Kierra I’m so bloody grateful for the two of you. I’m sorry my company has been a bit melancholy at times. Thanks for wiping my tears, giving the best hugs and sharing your own hearts. Carly is our herd manager and all round farm admin guru - she’s learnt a new more natural way of handling alpacas (CameliDynamics), implemented more natural methods of care and we’ve seen incredible progress with this. Kierra also loves and looks after the alpacas (and me ;)) too and is quickly becoming an expert at all things off-grid, wood chopping and making sense of all our tools. We recently had the amazing Emily join the team too and it feels she really has completed our little farm crew with her attention to detail and desire to make a difference. We’ve all had our fair share of life stuff thrown at us, been striving to live differently and more simply and I know there is a reason we’ve all been sent here together - I’m excited to see how this unfolds.

That leads me to my ‘why’ - when we first started out, it was really just a dream for our family - to work with animals, to live off-grid, to eventually be self sufficient and to have the occasional glamper and camper join us.

I had no idea that what I was really creating was a community space, a place for people to feel safe, to heal, to grow, to connect with others, with nature, with animals - this is now my purpose. I see this clearly.

So watch this space…

Lots of love to each of you. Always happy to hear from you too and any ideas that you have and what you’d like to hear more about.

Amy x