I was crawling around on all fours the other day, halfway between the vegetable garden and the vineyard, happily pulling weeds. The ground was softened from the first rain of the season the day before, allowing me to easily pull out the entire weed and its roots. I was blowing away stray strands of hair from my ponytail and humming a tune that was stuck in my head. Even inside the work gloves, my hands were dirty.

Not for the first time, a thought occurred to me: Who knew that I would be so content crawling around in the dirt, ridding my world of these evil weeds? Who could have guessed that I even could be? I was smiling, giggling to myself, and imagining myself saying these things out loud.

Who knew, when I said "I do," that I would someday choose to spend hours systematically eliminating weeds one-by-one with my own formerly manicured hands? On my own land, in my own vineyard, and in the dreamscape that I live in with my husband and menagerie. It all started as his idea, his passions, and his study and inspiration more than 14 years ago. I was a willing participant, but I never imagined what life would be like to live on a farm or a ranch or a vineyard, let alone work on a farm or ranch or vineyard, let alone MY OWN farm/ranch/vineyard! Yet here I am, six years after quitting my "day job," blossoming as both a person and a farmer/rancher/winegrower.

The number of "who knew" items on my list has been growing by the day and week, and I think a few out there might enjoy following along. My mother-in-law has been telling me for a while that I ought to write a book, but that's only because she doesn't yet know what a blog is. 

So here it is, my first post: Who knew, when I said "I do," that I'd happily spend hours pulling weeds? I know it's an illusion to think even for a moment that I can actually control the weed population in my organic vineyard and surrounding land. But the satisfaction of pulling a nasty weed and all its nasty, neighboring spawn was very real. It was a tangible effort, satisfying the analytical and quantitative parts of my brain. It was tactile, and I have the callouses to prove it! The smell of the moist earth, the nearby lavender, and the recently-spread wood mulch were delicious. And the resulting "tidiness" brought me joy, even if it is just a temporary visual state. And at least all of the new weeds will be from old seeds, making it that much easier to remove them before they make any new seeds.

I relish the chance to share my tales, life lived by me: a farmer, a farmer's wife, and a woman learning and practicing to truly love "what is."