The '60s sitcom "Green Acres" found new life on Nickelodeon because of a simple yet compelling premise: What would happen to an urban dwelling couple that decides to leave the big city and throw themselves headlong into a rural world of farming, dirt and hope? Substitute San Francisco for New York and Bosque Farms for Green Acres, and that story is ours. 

I’m Jonathan Ashe. Once upon a time, my wife Valerie and I lived a wonderful life in the heart of San Francisco, replete with fine restaurants, dirty martinis, and high-minded intellectuals. However, both of us knew in our souls that it was a dirt path rather than a marble hallway that would lead to our ultimate happiness. 

Long before greenwashing became popular, before Michael Pollan’s Omnivore’s Dilemma, and maybe as a result of watching the 1970's energy crisis unfold on the evening news as kids, Valerie and I subscribed to the belief that the human race had sacrificed much of its self-sufficiency in the name of progress, and in turn, lost its grasp on the importance nature and community. In turn, we humans are losing our usefulness in the natural environment. This led to our decision to test our hands at farming life. We decided to move to a small, rural town featuring none of the comforts we had come to take for granted. 

Much like our "Green Acres" counterparts, I embraced the opportunity to exchange cement for manure, while Valerie clung Eva Gabor-style to her Park Avenue life until the very end. Now our muddy boots are now parked in Bosque Farms, New Mexico. Valerie and I consider this a trial separation from city life, as Bosque Farms is only 15 miles from Albuquerque.

Why do we think we can create a productive farm in New Mexico? According to the USDA’s Economic Research Service, the state has more than 15,000 farm operations, 89 percent of which are small family farms or sole proprietorships. It also boasts 40 farmers’ markets -- not bad for a state with an average annual rainfall of 14 inches and a population of nearly 2.5 million. If you can make it farming in New Mexico, you can make it farming anywhere.

We live close to the Rio Grande River in an area dubbed the "green belt." Over the millennia, this land has been graced by nourishing floods. We knew that successful farming depended on good dirt and access to water. Bosque Farms affords us both advantages.

Embarking on this adventure, Valerie and I envisioned ourselves quickly creating a fragrant utopia consisting of fruit-laden trees full of birds and bees, complemented by fields of abundant vegetables bursting with flavor. My initial farm plan even included a labyrinth in the center of the property that mirrored the New Mexico State Flag, the Zia. From the center point, I drew paths from the four rays of the Zia that led to all corners of production on our property. It was to be a masterpiece on a canvas of dirt. We soon found out that my original property sketch was a maniacal piece of work that lacked practicality and was too elaborate and expensive to even begin to implement. The thought process that gave birth to this plan was guided by urban misconceptions about farming. In reality, supplies don’t appear overnight, nor do crops pop up according to our will; time and patience are the essential elements of cultivation.

Our moment of clarity hit us upon our arrival in Bosque Farms in late summer, 2007. The property had withstood a month of monsoon season without any human attention. The triumphant march we imagined ourselves making to the house was thwarted by giant weeds and wide swaths of squatting vegetation. At that point the reality of what we are doing set in and we dropped to our knees to start pulling weeds. Pull and pull and pull we did -- throughout September and into October. We were overwhelmed, but the smell of fresh rain on desperate dirt jolted us back to our resolve and reignited our sense of purpose.

With the fall consumed by the need to weed, Valerie and I assigned ourselves a winter project: Transforming a wall-less, metal lean-to into a greenhouse in preparation for spring. But then cold weather arrived and another aspect of our farming innocence came to light: Winter shuts down most agriculture, and our sleepy little town became downright narcoleptic. We ate the tainted apple and slept through the season.

That brings you up to date on our new life on the farm. There’s a lot in store: Spring is here, and has revived our energy. Our current growing plan is much simpler than it was when we arrived, although we still hold out hope that there’s a labyrinth in our future.

We are now starting the farm as a contractor would start a building-- with the foundation. Our foundation is the dirt. Feed the dirt, and it will feed us, and the community. From this foundation, we can begin to take the necessary steps to become real farmers—and with Albuquerque’s growing sustainable culinary scene just 15 miles away, we can enjoy a fantastic dinner out once in a while, too.

Currently, I am removing myself from the spigot mentality and designing a water system that works with our natural water supply of rain, irrigation, and at times, well water. In my plan, the water system will be a collective effort of rain catchments, holding tanks, gravity, and solar-powered pumps. This system will probably be the most expensive component of our farm system and take the most time to design and build. Without a sustainable supply of water and wise use of this water, however, our farming experiment could become a short-term experience in futility.

Between our forays into market and agriculture research, flooding our back field from the irrigation canals, and finding ideal cover crops to enhance the soil, our lives are now an immersion program in the language of cultivation and nature. The fears we sometimes feel are in stark contrast to our initial excitement. We are consistently uncomfortable because we are always dealing with the unknown. But we know that someday we will be fluent in our new language.

This is why we moved from San Francisco to Bosque Farms: To learn how to sustain ourselves and build a community, regardless of the outcome. Fulfillment is what we’re digging for in the dirt.

This is the first in a many-part series chronicling Valerie and Jonathan's building of a sustainable farm.