Hi ya’ll! It’s been a while since I’ve introduced myself so here’s a little background from the gal behind the screen.
My name is Heidi, I’m a city girl turned farmer’s wife.
I did not grow up in the country, and in the spirit of honesty, I did not grow up in the city either. Technically I grew up in three different towns until we finally put our roots down in a historic, small, but fast growing town in Indiana. I remember pulling into my hometown for the first time and thinking, all I see is corn fields. Little did I know, one day my future home would be among them. I dreamed of big city living and coffee shops on every corner, not wide open spaces and grain bins at every turn.
But a few years before I became an accidental country girl, my life took an unconventional turn when I became a single mother at far too young of an age. My big city life ended up being an itty bitty apartment on a quiet street, and I was lucky if I could afford Folgers. Looking back, I wouldn’t trade it for anything—the missteps, the mistakes, the tear filled nights— they all led me to the best days of my life. Being a mother is and always will be my life’s best story.
As fate would have it, my circumstances kept my feet planted only minutes from my future. But becoming a farmers wife, or a wife of any kind, was nowhere on my radar. My daughter was my first love and I was content with her being my last, but God had something else in mind.
That something else came in the form of a tractor driving, boot wearing, hardworking farm boy, named Cody—who held my hand and the door, kissed my forehead and his Mama’s cheek, and carried my daughter and a hard days work on his shoulders. The day he got down on one knee, he promised forever to not one, but two, very lucky ladies.
Now nine harvests later, and nearing six years of marriage, we are taking it planting season by harvest season and trying to stay grounded with a little bit of coffee, and a whole lot of Jesus.
We are all a work in progress here—I have yet to learn how to drive a tractor, most of the time I can’t tell you the difference between straw and hay, and rumor has it I got beat up by a rooster, once— I’ve sure come a long way from the days of packaged gravy, and asking google “what to wear to a rodeo.” (Thank the good Lord for cowgirl boots.)
Most importantly, I’m crazy about this life and the people I get to share it with. So grab a cup of coffee from the corner of the counter, and pull up a seat to my view. We keep it wide open here. Let’s talk mom life, farm life and everything in between and I promise we’ll laugh a lot, sometimes cry, and we might even learn a few things.
Welcome to our farm 🌱