Kristin Kimball

I have been waiting for this book, and the anticipation makes it all the sweeter. I love that Kimball perfectly tempers the gritty reality of farm work with the pleasures that make it worthwhile -- she doesn't pull any punches, she's relentlessly honest about relationships, and she tells a story with a deft hand. Between her moments of natural beauty, delicious foods, deep love of horses and her children we get the meandering stories of hardships and heartbreak and hard experiences. Much show more like her volatile partnership with her husband, Mark, it works, and works beautifully. I appreciate her willingness to let the world look in on what they are doing at Essex Farm. show less

In many ways beautifully written, this is a tale of true City Girl who fell in love with a back-to-nature farmer and her adjustment to what loving such a man meant. She exchanges (and, for the most, not grudgingly) a life of convenience and lack of purpose for a life of constant toil leavened by appreciation of the land and its products. The author does a good job of describing daily life on a non-mechanized farm that includes everything from the needed draft horses, cows, pigs, chickens to show more virtually every conceivable food crop. She is very happy with her new life. I'm thankful that her description makes it clear to me that I would be miserable under the same circumstances. Conveying both in the same volume is actually quite an accomplishment.

If you love nature or are interested in what is required to produce that Saran-wrapped vegetable, this is a terrific read. show less

As a woman who is about to move from the comfy suburbs of Strip Mall America to 5 acres in the country on a gravel road, I was very interested in this book and happy to have it recommended to me. It was easy-to-read, well-written, and enjoyable. What stood out to me, though, was not what Kimball tells about but rather what she omits.

Or am I just a person who doesn't accept happiness at face value? If so, then I apologize and I recognize that maybe it really was all that easy.

I loved show more reading about the process of farming, livestock raising, the temperaments of horses, making do with less, and "shopping with the Amish"... but was there no culture shock, depression, sadness at leaving her entire civilized life behind? We read occasionally (maybe 2-3 times?) about vague conflicts between her and her husband, but I never get inside her head to learn about the struggles between leaving friends, jobs, and familiarity of the city to being an outsider in the country, wholly dependent on the decisions of her partner. I wanted to read more about what it's like to go from self-sufficient singledom in NYC to sudden coupledom in a totally isolated setting.

I really like this woman, I do! I loved the feminist in her --that she didn't in any way deliver what seems so common in women's memoirs, i.e. "finding herself" in her new husband or birthing children. But I find it hard to believe that upon transitioning to this new life there was no second-guessing, no disappointment -- just a lot of toned arms, gourmet meals thrown together from lichen, dandelions, and steer balls, and extreme generosity from dozens of the kindest, most welcoming neighbors that any small town has ever produced.

Let me bore you with an analogy. In college, I studied abroad with a friend in Madrid and kept a diary because my mom asked me to. When I returned home with 4 full notebooks, she loved reading about the characters we met, the delicious (and often bizarre) food we ate, the troubles we had with our landlady, and the encounters we had with locals all over Europe as we learned to navigate a completely foreign landscape. She passed the journal to other family members and everyone had a good time reading about our adventures. I was happy to have provided people who've never been outside of the USA such a diversion!

But because I knew my mom would read them, those journals didn't say things that I thought were too personal or shameful. I was too embarrassed to write about was the extreme loneliness, the sobbing homesickness, my longing for letters from my boyfriend that never came. I couldn't put down in words the times I got drunk, the episodes of being lost and frustrated, the ugly and jealous feelings I had every time someone else got a care package and I didn't. I didn't have the guts to put my guts on paper because I wanted everyone reading it to like me.

There is also a possibility that Kristin Kimball is just a much, much nicer and more adaptable person than I am. Which is probably the case. show less

This was a delightful, honest account of one woman's adventure going from the life of a Manhattan writer to a full-time farmer on a farm that is not only self-sustaining but provides enough animal products, grain, and vegetables to support more than one hundred other people.

Kimball's story begins when she travels from New York to Pennsylvania to interview a man who runs a community farm that provides subscribers with eggs, vegetables, pork, and chicken. To her surprise, she finds herself not show more simply sitting down and interviewing the farmer but hoeing rocks from the tomato patch and assisting in the slaughter of a pig. To her even greater surprise, the farming life -- and the rugged, college-educated, idealistic farmer -- capture her imagination and she starts returning again and again. Eventually she and Mark become a couple and start their own farm in upstate New York, where they eschew tractors for draft horses and set out to build a completely self-sustaining lifestyle.

This a story in which the romance of the idea of having a farm and becoming engaged to someone you love is balanced by the intense challenges of farming and the personality conflicts of two strong-willed people who are in love with each other. Neither the success of the farm or the relationship is guaranteed. show less