Today marks one year since we moved from San Francisco to a rural village in New Mexico. Time flies when you pack up your urban lifestyle in exchange for a rural one, only to find that you have so much to learn about living.

During a thoughtful stroll across our property, I reflected on how we couldn’t have made this transition alone. I also thought about how our definition of community has changed; what community meant to us in San Francisco compared with how we now understand it in a rural setting. We’ve discovered that community, particularly here in Bosque Farms, includes a full spectrum of life, with a surprising cast of characters.

From the praying mantis who keeps grasshoppers and aphids at bay to the spiders who keep other unwanted visitors out of our house, insects and reptiles are the most numerous denizens in our newfound community. In fact, they were among the first to greet us in our new home, some more beneficial and welcome than others: centipedes, crickets, lizards and a group of woodhouse toads who all bear the affectionate name Rufus (courtesy of another community member, our neighbor Gloria). 

Although many people may not characterize animals as being part of a community, they can be most instrumental. Soon after arriving at our new home, our neighbors, Richard and Loretta saved us $600 with their 15 Barbados Blackbelly sheep, after a landscaping service gave us the quote to clear the weeds from our back property. Not only did the sheep save us $600, but they fertilized our field, and their weed habit saves Richard and Loretta on hay and feed.

They also warn us of possible oncoming lightning strikes (my latest fear under New Mexico’s huge, tumultuous summer sky) by stampeding quickly into their corral.   

But it’s the people, of course, who have been a tremendous help in our transition from urban to rural living.

After our initial article in this series, friends and readers implored us to listen to the locals and accept as much help from our neighbors as possible. If we hadn't heeded the unsolicited and welcome advice of our seasoned neighbors, we could still be urbanites living uncomfortably in a strange land. Instead, we’re more like urbanites working toward our rural citizenship.

And in the true spirit of community, the exchanges are seldom one-way. Even greenhorn farmers like us can offer something back to experienced folk that have been living here for many years. It’s difficult for us to take without giving back — after all, building community is one reason we embarked on this adventure — so this barter system has been a pleasant surprise.

For example, Richard has helped us build temporary fences, broadcast clover seed on our back property, search for an inexpensive tractor and helped build our farm in many other ways. In exchange, we have helped move things around his property, fed his sheep and provided comic relief in our efforts around the property. Valerie even baked our gratitude into a homemade key lime pie.

Our neighbor Rowena was instrumental during our first irrigation experience, rescuing us with instructions on how to open our acequia floodgates and water the back field. Because we share a ditch with her, our part of the bargain is to flood her field when she can't do it herself — and to casting a vote for her children to win “best motorized vehicle” in this summer’s village parade.

Lee is our neighbor due south, and he was our hero when he plowed and tilled our back field with his top-of-the-line tractor. He has lived in the area more than 20 years, and has offered great advice on enriching our soil and growing tomatoes. He, too, received a key lime pie in gratitude.

Our community extends beyond our immediate vicinity. Friends Mark and Tara from Denver have visited us a few times and have helped us gather and burn weed stalks during the winter. They gave us their reliable 1988 Toyota pickup when they moved to Texas. We now share the truck with neighbors Jerry and Karen on an as-needed basis to haul farm and construction materials. We were big fans of car sharing in San Francisco and were ecstatic to find partners in a utility truck -- it beats doling out insurance payments on a truck we would rarely use.

Recently transplanted from their extensive travels in Asia, Jerry and Karen too are novice landowners but have joined our community by sharing what they’ve learned. We’ve reciprocated by making them dinner a few times, but they consistently outdo us with Asian-inspired meals that have knocked our socks off — both in flavor and on the Scoville scale.

We’ve also been fortunate to have family: Valerie’s father has shared cuttings from his prolific prickly pear cactus patch and advice on growing vegetables. We regularly share dinners with her family while swapping tales of gardening, farming and harvesting. Family, too, can be community whether they are 10 or 10,000 miles away.

We don’t proclaim that life in a rural community is better than city life. While stories abound about urban neighbors not reacting to nearby screams for help, silence in rural areas can be just as deadly. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s character Sherlock Holmes once quipped to his fictional crony, Watson, “It is my belief, Watson, founded upon my experience, that the lowest and vilest alleys in London do not present a more dreadful record of sin than does the smiling and beautiful countryside." In either case, the benefits of a tight-knit community could help prevent petty or unspeakable crimes, but that is a topic best left for discussion over a cup of coffee or a pint of beer with members of your own community in your own neighborhood.

Our experience in this rural setting has given us a sense of belonging to a larger world that includes not only humans, an entire ecosystem of members who help each other along. Reflecting on this new sense of community and on how far we’ve come because of them over the past year helps us face tomorrow with even more wisdom and courage. And tomorrow is when we ask Lee to reprise his role on the tractor and help us plow our back acre again.

Until next time, take the trouble to consider your neighbor — whether human or beast.  

Related articles:
Hipsters Turn to Harvesting
Flooding the Farm
Reining in the Rain
Free Water Doesn't Come Cheap

Jonathan and Valerie would like to receive reader comments and suggestions. Feel free to email them at greenhornfarmer@yahoo.com.