It was a typical June day on the docks. Crabs were being packed onto a cart by the bushel, and barrels of wheat and grain were being loaded onto ships. The sun was unrelenting, wilting everyone from the ship captain to the porters carrying the punishing barrels of goods.
My family, the Shugart’s, lived off the Chesapeake Bay. Each morning, all of us would go down to the beach, set up the traps, and start fishing on a little boat. We always had a lot of seafood at the end of the day; it was enough to feed three kings. However, the demand for seafood was low. The fat, delicious, and juicy fishes would sell for very little on the seafood market. My older brother could remember a time when demand for seafood was very high, and our family was very well off, but now, the demand for seafood, like the tide, was out. We were not rich enough to continue to live off the sea. Since everyone knew that eating only crabs and fish for breakfast, lunch, and dinner is terrible, life could not go on like this forever. Yet, there seemed to be no alternative.
As I contemplated this while eating a bowl of mashed potatoes, Father spoke up, and what I heard was almost unbelievable.
“I want to move to a farm in hopes of a better future there. Is there anyone that stands with me?
Mother, my brother, and I were dumbfounded. It was impossible to think of life without the bay. Now, we would be possibly moving to a farm some 100 miles inland. I was terrified, but at the same time, I knew that this was the only solution. As much as I liked the sea, it could not continue to support us. I raised my hand, and my mother and my brother did too. A murmur of surprise came from my father. He looked around and nodded. It was official. We would move to this unknown place for an unknown future. I sighed.
As everyone expected, buying the farm, and selling our old house was a difficult and tedious process. I was surprised that Father planned to sell almost every single one of our belongings and move. On the last day, our family skinned all the fish our horses could pull, and we set off westward, towards Richmond.
The dense, crowded areas of the city that was so well known to me gradually gave way to less and less dense suburban areas until we reached the countryside: cows grazing by the side of the road, and miles and miles of fields stretching for as far as the eye could see. The air was strange; it was not smelly, but it was so different than the smells of the sea that I had grown up used to! I had never seen such towering trees that reached above the horse cart, nor grasses that reached so high up to my knees.
The farm my father bought was quite ordinary, according to him, but when we arrived it looked like a perfect farm. It was mostly flat, and the soil was quite black, moist, and soft for planting. A gigantic red barn was standing, empty, and a small house was squatting next to it. However, that was just because the barn was huge. Like, HUGE. The house was still much bigger than the house that we had lived in previously.
There was much work to do after we arrived. We organized the house and stored what measly belonging we had there. We used a very helpful “How to Farm” guide and began plowing the fields. Father was delighted to find that the barn still had many assorted seeds. Neither I nor he had ever even heard of most of them before. What was this “carrot”? Or this “kale”? What in the world was this funny-looking green version of the carrot called “cucumber”?!?!
It took a long time for me to adjust to farm life. My brother quickly adapted, but I struggled. Everything, from the smell of earth, the taste of vegetables, and the sound of animals to the sight of land forever in all directions, and the handling of seeds were foreign for a long time. But soon, I adjusted to this life too.
It was a difficult life, and the farming was hard. The animals were hostile. The rains were few and far between. The sun was scorching hot. The barn had mice. The soil was overworked and began to harden. Pests were all over the fields. Small animals stole our crops. Birds pecked at our tomatoes. Our harvest was small for such a big field. We all had a very hard time growing the food for us to live. Perhaps bad farming is what made the demand for vegetables high, even higher than the apple trees. I speculate that that demand saved our lives. Even though each year we barely made enough for us to eat, we always sold our crops at the market for great prices.
After just a few months, a time of excellent surplus came onto our family. We could afford some newer farm equipment, more furniture, and even a picture or two on the previously blank walls of the house. My father bought a violin and scratched away most abominably at it for some time, before finally learning how to play it nicely. My mother bought some flowers which she arranged in our front yard and vases on our kitchen table. My brother bought two horses for us to ride, and soon I could ride anywhere, whenever I wanted.
As for me, I was delighted to buy some fish.
My family, the Shugart’s, lived off the Chesapeake Bay. Each morning, all of us would go down to the beach, set up the traps, and start fishing on a little boat. We always had a lot of seafood at the end of the day; it was enough to feed three kings. However, the demand for seafood was low. The fat, delicious, and juicy fishes would sell for very little on the seafood market. My older brother could remember a time when demand for seafood was very high, and our family was very well off, but now, the demand for seafood, like the tide, was out. We were not rich enough to continue to live off the sea. Since everyone knew that eating only crabs and fish for breakfast, lunch, and dinner is terrible, life could not go on like this forever. Yet, there seemed to be no alternative.
As I contemplated this while eating a bowl of mashed potatoes, Father spoke up, and what I heard was almost unbelievable.
“I want to move to a farm in hopes of a better future there. Is there anyone that stands with me?
Mother, my brother, and I were dumbfounded. It was impossible to think of life without the bay. Now, we would be possibly moving to a farm some 100 miles inland. I was terrified, but at the same time, I knew that this was the only solution. As much as I liked the sea, it could not continue to support us. I raised my hand, and my mother and my brother did too. A murmur of surprise came from my father. He looked around and nodded. It was official. We would move to this unknown place for an unknown future. I sighed.
As everyone expected, buying the farm, and selling our old house was a difficult and tedious process. I was surprised that Father planned to sell almost every single one of our belongings and move. On the last day, our family skinned all the fish our horses could pull, and we set off westward, towards Richmond.
The dense, crowded areas of the city that was so well known to me gradually gave way to less and less dense suburban areas until we reached the countryside: cows grazing by the side of the road, and miles and miles of fields stretching for as far as the eye could see. The air was strange; it was not smelly, but it was so different than the smells of the sea that I had grown up used to! I had never seen such towering trees that reached above the horse cart, nor grasses that reached so high up to my knees.
The farm my father bought was quite ordinary, according to him, but when we arrived it looked like a perfect farm. It was mostly flat, and the soil was quite black, moist, and soft for planting. A gigantic red barn was standing, empty, and a small house was squatting next to it. However, that was just because the barn was huge. Like, HUGE. The house was still much bigger than the house that we had lived in previously.
There was much work to do after we arrived. We organized the house and stored what measly belonging we had there. We used a very helpful “How to Farm” guide and began plowing the fields. Father was delighted to find that the barn still had many assorted seeds. Neither I nor he had ever even heard of most of them before. What was this “carrot”? Or this “kale”? What in the world was this funny-looking green version of the carrot called “cucumber”?!?!
It took a long time for me to adjust to farm life. My brother quickly adapted, but I struggled. Everything, from the smell of earth, the taste of vegetables, and the sound of animals to the sight of land forever in all directions, and the handling of seeds were foreign for a long time. But soon, I adjusted to this life too.
It was a difficult life, and the farming was hard. The animals were hostile. The rains were few and far between. The sun was scorching hot. The barn had mice. The soil was overworked and began to harden. Pests were all over the fields. Small animals stole our crops. Birds pecked at our tomatoes. Our harvest was small for such a big field. We all had a very hard time growing the food for us to live. Perhaps bad farming is what made the demand for vegetables high, even higher than the apple trees. I speculate that that demand saved our lives. Even though each year we barely made enough for us to eat, we always sold our crops at the market for great prices.
After just a few months, a time of excellent surplus came onto our family. We could afford some newer farm equipment, more furniture, and even a picture or two on the previously blank walls of the house. My father bought a violin and scratched away most abominably at it for some time, before finally learning how to play it nicely. My mother bought some flowers which she arranged in our front yard and vases on our kitchen table. My brother bought two horses for us to ride, and soon I could ride anywhere, whenever I wanted.
As for me, I was delighted to buy some fish.
