Wednesday, May 14, 2014

Naming the Farm

I've a touch of the ditz today.  While thinking about our "farm" and the naming there of, my mind has wandered off on several different tangents.

Like:

  • Naming the farm which is not to be confused with buying the farm.  Which, duh, of course, makes me wonder where & when the saying "bought the farm" came to mean to die. 
Fast forward 27 seconds and you can wonder no more! Here's the answer.

Of course that begs the question

  • So what makes a farm a farm? We aren't growing food here yet.  I haven't got any farm animals other than our eight pullets.  We grow a ton of apples and cherries in our orchard but we don't sell anything.
  • Is a "farm" a huge commercial operation? Someone who has hundreds or thousands of acres?
  • How is Hobby Farming defined - is that what we would then be? Should we, could we define ourselves that way? How many acres do you need to be considered a hobby farmer? Why the distinction between the two?

Those are just a few of the things that have been running through my noggin since yesterday when I told my Beloved that we have to come up with a name for our farm.  Which isn't really a farm per se.  It's a 151 year old farmhouse on four acres that used to be a real working farm (as opposed to a fake idle farm?), with a dairy barn, pole barn, chicken coop and orchard.

The point to all of this rambling: How does one go about coming up with a name for their farm? 

Veering off in a totally different direction now!

Two weeks ago we hand done some pruning in the orchard and instead of just dumping all of the apple wood branches and limbs I asked my Beloved to pull a ramp that lead up to some barn doors over under the lean-to so we could put it all in one spot.

This is what we found:
Note the size of the hole and the bones
AaaaAaAAhhHhhh!!

He kept insisting that it was a goblin's lair.

He put two giant boulders in front of the hole   All that night I felt wretched because I thought "What if it's a mama and she and her babies will be stuck in there?" and "they'll die of starvation!" Honestly, I was seconds away from tears.  My Beloved held no such compunction and offered to go outside with me saying that he would hold the flashlight while I moved the rocks.  How chivalrous of him!

But I haven't been back to the barn since, I'm too creeped out by what I might find.

Have you named your farm? Your Homestead? How did you come up with the name?


Shared with Homestead Barn Hop

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