Who could ask for more?

In today’s world it may not be politically correct, but I grew up playing that childhood game of cowgirls and Indians, knowing full well that if you were to mix in a little gypsy girl with the cowgirl and the Indian, shake it, then bake it, you would have me: a rural farmgirl. I, like many of my farmgirl friends, do not really “fit” into any one mold. I am as eclectic in my thinking and in my interests as I am in the blood that runs through me.

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The plot thickens

Family has been on my mind a lot lately. Perhaps it is because my two oldest sons, who have been out of country, are home for their first visit in nearly a year. Maybe it is because the holiday season seems to be approaching like a runaway locomotive that no one can slow down. Or just maybe it is the farm tours and the pumpkin patches and apple cider festivals that I have attended on the last few weekends that have me feeling all warm, fuzzy, and reflective.
     (Thomas now 22, Lucas 21)

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More Precious than Gold

Although there have been other places I have visited that have taken me back to days gone by, none compare to my recent trip to Idaho City, Idaho. The old timers there would tell you that the wealth traveled off the mountain during the gold mining days in the mid- to late 1800s. But as a self-proclaimed writer, I would argue that fact. For me, the wealth of that little mining town is in its residents, who not only keep the history alive in the care and keeping of the physical needs of their city but also in the telling of the stories.

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Good-bye Old Friend

I hate goodbyes, even the ones that are just for a little time. I have never been good at them; they seem so final. It is heartbreaking to have to part with anything or anyone that I really enjoy being with. So this past week, when I had to say good bye to some of my veggie gardens, it was a little sad. I always feel a little like a traitor when I have to go and yank the tomato plants out by their roots (these same plants that just weeks ago brought me so much joy) and to till under all the plants that have been so full of life. I cannot help but to think back to what seems like a few moments before, when I was planting the garden. Now, as the chilly air of fall blows up my spine, I have to say good-bye once again.

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When Pigs Fly

There I was, completely sprawled out on the sofa begging the gods of all things to please stop the room from spinning.

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Changes

This past week I have been faced with a lot of it…change, that is. The seasons are changing. I see evidence of it daily, with the nights arriving earlier and earlier and the coolness in the morning air. I even changed my hair, getting rid of my blonde streaks and adjusting to a darker color again. I have noticed the leaves changing on the tree outside my home office, and the grape leaves are changing color on the vines. I even changed some of the clothes in my closet, getting rid of some summer things and unpacking and washing some of my fall things. I have also been looking at my office and thinking of all the changes I anticipate making to it this fall and winter.

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A blogging Smorgasbord

I was born to be a gypsy, a vagabond, a wanderer. There is something about the road. It just seems to call out to me. It is not the destination that calls, but the journey itself. It is the back roads, the people I will meet, the things that I will see…the experience. So when a fellow blogger, a girl named Timi, invited me to drive over to the west side of our fair state to participate in a “meet the blogger” night in Snohomish, of course I said yes. In true Rene’ fashion, I set out without a clue of what to expect. I love the thrill of the unexpected! I knew none of the women who would be there, yet I was confident, based on Timi’s “zany” personality, that I would somehow fit in.

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An Ode to Community.

While meeting with a group of women from my church recently, I learned that one of the Farmgirls in our community needed some help. Emily had recently undergone surgery to provide a kidney to her ailing little girl, and she needed to have a chicken coop built and some garden work done before the winter hit. That did not sound like a huge request to me. After all, I thought, surely there are enough of us in our little farming community who could spare some supplies, tools and a few man/woman hours. I decided then- and- there that this was something that we could, and should, do.

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Happy trails to you.

I have been hearing Roy Rogers sing that snappy little tune for days now. If I knew how to whistle, I would be whistling it while I work. I have always been a Roy Rogers and Dale Evans fan, though I probably could not come up with any brilliant reasons why. Maybe it was their unassuming way of being humble in the midst of their success, or their fun and flirty style when talking to each other while on camera. I could never image one without the other.

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The common thread

Quilts have been on my mind a lot lately. I adore them, and I just don’t think that a person can have too many of them. I am really partial to the ones that have been made with scrap materials and old, cut up, tattered clothing. Not that I don’t like the ones that are gussied up with new fabric—I do. I am just more partial to the other.

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Portrait of René Groom

René Groom
is a down-home “MaryJane Farmgirl” who lives in Washington state’s wine country, where her husband is a carrot farmer. She grew up in the dry-land wheat fields of Eastern Washington, where learning to drive the family truck and tractors, along with “snipe hunting,” were rites of passage. She has dirt under her nails and in her veins. In true farmgirl fashion, she struggles to balance home, business, children, and marriage. Her passions include gardening, backyard chickens, canning, and redwork embroidery.

“Being a part of MaryJane’s farmgirls helps me recreate that sense of small-town community that I knew so well growing up—that place where neighbors would knock on your door for a cup of sugar or get together to make sausage. There is no place on Earth I would rather be than on the farm.”

E-mail René.

The Rural Farmgirl Blog columns copyright © 2009 René Groom. All rights reserved.

Little Farmer Girl

Farmgirl
is a condition
of the heart.