When I was in the city, I was living what I thought was the dream: I had a stable government job, a great house, and a packed social schedule.
I had built a life I was proud of, and that life had absolutely nothing to do with cows. Then, I met a farmer.
One weekend in 2009, I went on a weekend fishing trip to northern Saskatchewan. It was supposed to be a family get-together, but a family friend brought someone he thought I should meet. Very quickly, I realized I was being set up.
Although we had very different lifestyles, I was intrigued by the farmer’s quiet, steady demeanor and passion for his work. After getting to know each other for two days, we exchanged numbers and eventually started dating.
By April 2010, I had packed up my city life and moved to his 100-year-old farm in east-central Alberta, about two and a half hours from my home in Edmonton.
It was a place where cows outnumbered people, cell service was spotty, and the sunsets were so beautiful, they made me stop mid-sentence. That fall, we got married.
I never expected to trade my high heels for muck boots, but it turned out to be an easy choice
When I first moved to the farm, my friends had questions. I had a social reputation, and people wondered how I’d handle living in the middle of nowhere.
Although I’d built a great foundation and routine in the city, I knew this romantic relationship was something special. I also knew that if I wanted to build a future with this man, I’d have to relocate.
However, from the second I moved, I never questioned my decision.
It didn’t take long for me to fall in love with my new neighbors, the nearby community, and the owl that frequented the trees outside my bedroom window and sang me to sleep every night.
Life on the farm was quieter, yes, but also fuller and richer than anything I’d experienced in the city.
Moving to a farm changed my definition of a successful, happy life
In Edmonton, I thought I had it all, from a high-paying job to a busy social life — but I also felt strangely disconnected.
I had friends, sure, but no real sense of community. I had career momentum, but no space to dream about what I really wanted. Farm life changed that.
Moving here gave me the room to imagine something different and then build it. I started a business out of my two loves: photography and writing.
I went on to write four books celebrating farm life, rural women, and the incredible culture and history of Canadian family farms.
I discovered that community doesn’t mean having a million or more people around me; it means living around people who will support each other when it matters.
Here, we know our neighbors. We show up, help each other dig out from snowdrifts, and bring food when someone’s experienced a loss.
Over a decade later, I have no regrets about moving here — even if it wasn’t the life I once pictured
Sometimes, I think about the version of myself who lived in the city — the one who didn’t really know her neighbors, had wonderful friends but no real community, and spent way too much money on to-go coffees.
I still have the coffee habit (I’m a mom, after all), but back then, I was simply chasing what I thought would make me happy.
This wide-open, surrounded-by-more-cows-than-people, “wave to the people you drive by” life feels like where I was meant to land, though.
Now, I get to raise my daughters with space to run and skies that go on forever. I get to work from home doing what I love. Plus, I get to share a life with someone who understands the value of hard work, simple joy, and planting roots and a legacy.
I never expected to fall in love with a farmer, and I certainly didn’t expect to live on a century-old prairie farm or to find my calling after leaving everything familiar behind.
More than 15 years later, though, I know this: following my heart out of the city and onto this farm was the smartest — and most fulfilling — thing I’ve ever done.
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