The Farmer and his Wife Book: A Small Taste

As you can see from that side panel, (Yes, the one right over there on the right. Your right, not mine.) The Farmer’s Wife has written a book which is set to be released on March 16th of this year. Now, I know this blog has been mainly a place where she shares her recipes, but the book isn’t set up quite that way, so I thought I should give you a bit of a sneak peek (or five) so you could see and know what this book-thing is all about.

So, without further adieu (clears throat), I humbly present the first part of the first chapter from the first book by the Farmer’s Wife.

The Farmer and his Wife

Chapter One: The Heist

Some people live in cities, others in towns. The Farmer and his Family live in a Village, but it is getting too tight for them. You see, they have neighbors—they are lovely people, but people in general are not what they seek. They want land, lots of land, teaming with gardens and orchards and every kind of animal to fill it. They want a Farm. You see, they are Farmers already, have been for ever so long. A Farmer isn’t something you become. It’s something you are. Just like you don’t become a baker or a candlestick maker. You are born one. And they were born Farmers.

The Farmer and his Wife even met on a farm. Have you heard that story already? Oh.  So you know it. They met on a farm and now here they are, living in a Village. They do their best with what they have. They planted a few fruit trees, and a nut tree or two; they even have a garden, complete with a pumpkin teepee at the end where they read stories and drink tea. It’s nice, but in a for now kind of way. Their Farmer’s blood itches for more.

But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. Let us have the proper introductions, shall we? You know the Farmer, surely, that’s why you’ve come. You want to hear his stories. But have you met his Wife? And the young ones? They’re all here. The Farmer’s Wife is gathering and sorting the eggs, while Mikaela’s in the house, her head stuck in a book. Jacob’s over there, in the tree house the Farmer and his Wife built last summer. Hannah’s just where you’d expect her to be—off riding bikes with the neighbors.

She loves it here in the Village, which is quite strange. Of all three children, Farmer’s blood runs thickest in her. Isn’t she the one who pushes that chicken on a swing? And didn’t she name each one? There they are now, all in a line. They’re looking for her. You can tell by the way they cock their heads to the side like that. That’s how they look for her….