Missy Mayo
Ask my younger self what she wanted from life, and I could guarantee that the words “llamas” and “Texas” would not have been uttered.
And yet, here I am – living the Texas dream on our little slice of heaven called Still Meadow Farm. It’s a far cry from the palm tree-lined streets of Beverly Hills where I once tended a straggly tomato plant growing in the sidewalk cracks behind my duplex (seeds courtesy of the tomato in my Trader Joe’s salad).
My husband and I were both born and raised in SoCal. We moved to Southlake for his job nearly seven years ago and settled in a neighborhood near Southlake Town Square. I kept our apartment in Beverly Hills and continued to run my public relations firm back in L.A., flying there as needed for celebrity photo shoots, red carpet events and meetings. A few years into our Texas “sojourn,” I realized Texas had become home. I dreaded work trips and the inevitable battleground of LAX.
It was about this time that I was casually perusing real estate listings in bed (as one does) and stumbled upon an actual farm for sale just a few miles down the road. I joked with my husband that we ought to see it and started dreaming about the idyllic country childhood that we could provide for our kids. You know, the kind where they play tag amongst wildflowers, fish in the pond after school and bottle-feed piglets for 4H club.
As with all things that are destined, the stars aligned, and we’ve been blessed to call Still Meadow Farm our home for nearly three years. We’ve traded traffic and commutes for lazy strolls around our property; loud, inconsiderate neighbors for the good kind – the ones who’ll help you wrangle llamas, drive their tractor over to tow you out of the mud (don’t ask) and build your kids a fire pit so they can roast marshmallows on the regular.
As former city slickers, we’ve had lots to learn. The first lesson: appropriate footwear. (Note to Californians: Flip-flops won’t cut it on a Texas farm.) I traded in my Rainbows and red-soled stilettos for some sturdy mucking boots. I can now ID most native snakes and have learned the difference between Virginia creeper and poison ivy. I am not afraid to chase off rogue coyotes. My husband was darn proud to see me hook a catfish in under a minute with a grub unearthed from my garden. While he laughs that I still prefer to plant in raised beds when we have acres of space (Fire ants are real, y’all!), I’m pretty proud that I can grow my own produce and that we’re teaching our children where their food comes from.
Here on the farm, we’ve found room to breathe – space we didn’t even realize we wanted. Every day is a lesson in learning to slow down, to revel in the beauty of our surroundings and appreciate the precious time we have with our children.
JENNIFER SHOUCAIR WEAVER IS A SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA TRANSPLANT, THE FOODIE FEED FOUNDER, LLAMA MAMA AND LOCAL FARM OWNER.
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