Harlon Farms

If you are familiar with that name, you know me because of my horses, riding, and my farm. Harlon Farms is my home and the home to my animal collection, but its only been our home for a little while. So once upon a time, I lived back and fourth between my moms house, and my dads apartment, a little more than an hour apart from each other. Mom on the weekdays, Dad sometimes on the weekends, as my school was much closer to my moms. But of course I rode 5 days out of the week, 45 mins from my moms, much longer from my dads. The drives were a routine, and spending every blinking moment of my weekends showing or practicing. Basically my mom was becoming my taxi service, but aren’t most moms? Almost all of my friends rode, except my childhood bestie, Julie, my next door neighbor. We hung out almost every single day, countless sleepovers, and a few forceful trips to the barn. No matter how hard I tried, she just didn’t care for horses, let alone wanted to ride them. I wanted her to ride with me so badly, but she never gave. So instead, I would make her  play with my Breyer horses with me all the time, poor Julie. By the time I had the word “teen” in my name we drifted apart. No drama, no issues, just change I guess.

I had a lot of issues with lower school, had a really hard time focusing, really shy, played hookie all the time, poor grades, and just dreaded school. I would give my up my right arm if it meant I never had to go to school, yea that bad. Julie was the complete opposite. Straight A student, always did all of her chores, never missed a day, 15 mins early, yeah, that kid. We we’re pretty opposite. But the one think that didn’t make me feel like a complete loser in life was with horses. It was something that I looked forward to, something that I was actually good at, and wanted to keep getting better at. The horse was an animal that I was always drawn to. They were noble, proud, courageous and spiritual creatures. Every single one of them screamed freedom to me. I rode at a very prestigious hunter jumper barn. It was pristine, disciplined, and extravagant. They were the ones to go to if you really wanted to be serious about horse showing in the hunter jumper world. They taught me from when I was 7 years old, and until I was 16. It was my second home. Monday was the day off, Tuesday was the day they rode them and made sure they were tuned and listening, and the rest of the week it was lesson after lesson, and show after show. It was my life. But the one thing I wasn’t granted of, was freedom with my horses, they were very strict with what you did with them. They were basically bubble wrapped ponies. I loved it, but always craved that desire to just pull a horse out of their stall, hop on bareback with a makeshift bridle from a halter and lead rope, and just gallop off into a magical forrest, but that wasn’t exactly happening. So I relieved that craving by watching youtube videos of other girls doing those things with their horses, giggling in the sun shine, falling off and getting back on, riding with your friends through the river, that sorta thing. But instead of it relieving my crave, it only made me want that freedom even more. So thats when the “I want a farm daddy” idea was born. My mom being an avid house lover, took my idea and ran, and before I knew it we were set up with a Realtor looking at “farms”. My 13 year old self was pretty thrilled. We looked a few, mainly looking for the potential in it, but we hadn’t really found anything we loved. Until, the creme de la creme of properties, the “OMG I NEED it” kind of reaction, it was our wildest house dreams come true, ok maybe not that great but we were a little dramatic. It was our house soul mate. It was in dreamy neighborhood, minutes from where I rode. A 30 foot hedge protected the property, it reminded of us of Disney world, the lawn was a fluffy carpet of vibrant green. The trees towered around the drive was, giving a beautiful shaded light to the 5 acre property. The landscaping was meticulous. You felt like you were at Disney worlds Epcot with how amazing the property looked. It had a beautiful round about driveway, and the house looked perfect. We gave it a tour and fell in love, 3 bedrooms, huge master, great space, and the pool was protected by a 2 story pool screen, it was about the prettiest pool screen as a pool screen could get. The property was 5 acres, all beautifully landscaped, and we were already planning on where the barn and arena would go. Our hearts were set. They planned for us to also tour the property next door the same day, so just for fun we gave it a go, but it was a sure no go. It was an overgrown abandoned mess. The door of the house had a big sticker in white lettering, R.I.P so and so. Not exactly what you want to see when touring a potential home. Not a real big fan of ghosts either. This was already looking great! The house was a real tear down, and the property was taken over by weeds and mosquitos. We weren’t loving it. We later learned that it was the neighborhood crack house. Lovely. So we scratched that one off the list.

So with our hearts set on our little paradise house, we decided to go through with it. My 13 year old self was practically bouncing off the walls. With a little negotiating, they finally accepted our offer! We were ecstatic. We already were meeting with architects and designers about the barn we planned on building, there were blue prints and everything. But of course it was too good to be true….

The Jack ass owner decided that he didn’t want to sell his little Epcot style of a home, even after he accepted our offer. My mother was devastated. My little dream was about to come true, and then the dude had to pop it with a machete. Ouch. So us being so determined, we decided to buy the crack house!!! Yay? Of course the owners of the crack house were dying to sell, so they accepted, and actually signed the contract this time. So crack house bound we were. Epcot to crack, just like that. Okay okay I’m done with the crack jokes. We were new owners, but now we had to start from scratch. We were still excited, but just a little less bouncing off the walls… The property wasn’t even going to be livable, until two and half years from then, but what can you do? So now I continued to dream about my galloping around, but now I had an idea of where I was going to run around on my noble steed. After a while, my little paradise was finally ready. Now did it look like our next door paradise? Not really, maybe on a really good day, but I was just thrilled to finally get in the freaking place. With improvements and more building, my paradise was formed, and I finally got to itch that dang itch of wanting that freedom with horses. Our dream farm didn’t end up what we imagined it to be, but I still wouldn’t have it any other way. I still rode and kept my show horses at the barn down the street, as they were used to their bubble wrapped life. So new horses and animals came into my life, Wayne, Lilo, Sport, Gem, Rivaldo, Red fish, Zimo, Stanley, Eric the donkey, Sven the mini, the chickens, the ducks, and of course poise the pig. And we all rode off into the sunset together, as one big happy family.

THE END

And that’s the story of how Harlon Farms became Harlon Farms. Oh and the name? Harlon is my middle name! Who knows how my mom came up with, she says its a derivative of harry, which was my dads father, the jewish like to name their kids after dead people.

See you soon,

Absters