When I see so many country folks going to the city it makes me all the more thankful that my husband and I are farmers.
I was born and raised in a city tenement district. At sixteen I began working in a shoe factory and held my job until I was twenty-three. The spring before my twenty-third birthday, father bought a car and we began spending Sundays in the “great open spaces.” Even though I had never been out of the city, I loved the country and dreamed of being a farmer’s wife.
One day a new employee came to the factory. I learned that she was a country girl, and a flourishing friendship followed. I told her of my love for the country and desire to live there. Then my luck turned. She knew an old couple who wanted a girl to take care of them.
My friend helped me get the position, so I gave up my job in the city and started out light-hearted on my adventure. My employers were a lovely old lady and gentleman, who lived on a 150-acre farm, and my new job was easier and much more enjoyable than my city job.
When my work was done for the day I would take a walk in the sunset. Sometimes I would stroll up the hill and look down into the beautiful valley below, and off into the hills which completely surrounded it. It was while on one of these strolls that I met my husband, then a country boy of 24. We have been married now for nearly four years, and have a darling baby, who has just passed the year mark.
When I look out the kitchen window of my little home, and see the jolly, friendly sun shining over
our green fields, and hear the murmur of the creek rippling over the pebbles, and the birds singing, I am happy. Then in the evening when the chores are done and we sit on the porch, Husband and I, and I take Baby in my arms and read to Husband from The Farmer's Wife, and we hear the crickets and katydids, and all the other members of our little insect band, I am glad, so glad, I am a farmer's wife. I wouldn't trade the farm for a mansion on Park Avenue in New York City.