Uprooting and Expanding One’s Wings to a New Place
-An Interview with Josanne Wiorek about Moving from Colorado to Minnesota
I’ve known Josanne for nine years and have often frequented her home and farm. From picking pumpkins in the fall for Halloween to tasting the fruits of her family’s gardens, her home has provided more than food–it has provided many guests and neighbors a friendly experience for all ages filled with kindness and generosity.
For this post, I interviewed Josanne about her upcoming move from Colorado to Minnesota. Josanne lived at her family’s original farmstead from 1967 until 1987 located between Boulder and Longmont, and she moved back again from 2013-present. Josanne has been rooted to her community and the land and is now spreading her wings as a grandmother to live closer to her son and his family in Minnesota.
For many, change is difficult. Life transitions, including those that are positive, often include unprocessed grief. Sometimes, when one tries something new or something that is “good” for them, they may feel like they are missing something–and likely are–, possibly from their prior experiences, family and friends, culture, geography, and more, even though they are looking forward to the change. Thus, positive life transitions can be challenging when it comes to grieving them. It can be helpful to process these thoughts and feelings in ways that are meaningful to help navigate one’s experiences in ways that are fruitful.
In this interview, Josanne and I explore grief and loss tied to life transitions regarding a change of home.
About Josanne and her Farm
Tell me about your farm and family.
Poet Farm is nestled between Longmont and Boulder. My parents bought it in 1967 when I was two years old–so this is my childhood home. Later, my husband and I moved back to the family farm in 2013 after my mom died, and my dad needed help both with the farm and with medical care. We grew up surrounded by the children and grandchildren of the original homesteaders, hearing all the old stories of long ago times on this property.
What has your farm and home meant to you? To others?
My parents were organic farmers before that was a popular movement and I grew up eating veggies and fruits we grew and canned, meat we raised, and even honey from our bees. We made our own butter, baked our own bread, and had homemade ice cream every Sunday in the summers. We played for hours by the creek or climbing trees after doing our chores. I think that sort of simple life is something a lot of people are missing now, and coming to our farm gives them a chance to take a breath and rest a bit. Kids love to pick raspberries or apples or pet the cows and gather eggs. Since my husband and I moved back from overseas, many friends have come to visit and heal on this farm. Sitting under a cottonwood tree with a glass of lavender lemonade or by the fire pit sipping hot chocolate is a sort of therapy that is rare. To me, being so closely tied to the rhythms of the farm and the seasons has been grounding and reassuring. Even when we lived on the other side of the world, it was comforting to know that the farm was here; baby chicks were hatching, lilacs were blooming, and life was predictable.
On Deciding to Move
What has your process been like to decide to move closer to family?
One of our dreams was to have our grandchildren enjoying our farm. While many other children do love coming here, we miss our own grandkids. Our second grandson has cerebral palsy from CMV, and it’s just becoming really hard for them to fly to visit with his wheelchair and medical equipment. We want our grandkids to have a deep connection with the land and growing food. We were committed to staying here and caring for my dad. He really wanted to die at home in his own bed, and as an end-of-life nurse, it was natural for us to help make that possible for him. In the process though, my engineer husband discovered that he loves farming. Once my dad passed, we had to decide whether to continue caring for the family farm or move closer to our grandkids. We felt like having a farm that was not accessible to our own family wasn’t really what we wanted.
What are you most looking forward to about being in a new place?
I am excited about being in my own modern house. While our current home is charming, it lacks a few amenities. It was built in 1885 when the new railroad made ordering a kit home possible. There is no dishwasher or clothes dryer and our heat comes from a wood stove. Imagine camping…year after year. I’m even more excited to be near my four grandkids and able to participate in a more daily way. We love having them visit, but it’s a big production for them to come once or twice a year. I’m looking forward to lazy days reading on the screen porch with them or kayaking on our pond.
What are you least looking forward to about being in a new place?
Ticks and mosquitos and blizzards. I know that many people live (and enjoy) up north so it must be possible.
What will you miss most about your residence?
I am so sad to be leaving really dear friends and neighbors and a whole community that I deeply love. I’m sad to leave the trees that have sheltered me my whole life. I’m sad to leave the great horned owl that calls to me while I’m gathering laundry from the line in the evening. I’m sad to leave behind the orchard of heirloom apples and our traditional apple cider pressing parties in the fall with neighbors and friends.
What will you miss least about your residence?
Living on a truly historic farm means that things are constantly breaking or falling apart. I won’t miss trying to get a fire started in the wood stove on a freezing morning or setting mouse traps in my kitchen.
What is the bravest thing you are doing by making this move?
I feel like it’s a leap of faith to just pack up and move to a whole new place. I just keep reminding myself that I’ve survived every move thus far.
On Grief and Loss and Relocating
How would you describe the grief you are experiencing with a change of homes?
It’s so complicated. I love and hate this old house. My father lived longer than any of us expected and so it felt like we would be “stuck” here forever. But now that it’s time to leave, I feel ridiculously sentimental about every bush, tree, and flower bulb. More than once I’ve just walked the back pasture and cried. It’s bigger than just leaving a home, though. We’re also leaving a family farm and all the history. SO many people have said things to us like “I hope the new people won’t tear it all down to build another mansion.” It feels like I was carrying a lot of weight about the whole community’s expectations. One thing I really hoped was that we would feel good about whoever bought this place. We LOVE them. They are young and full of energy and dreams and truly value the history and heart of Poet Farm. That eases our grief.
What do the words Roots and Wings mean to you, especially in regard to your move?
As a farmer, roots are critical, right? I feel like my roots are so deep in this place. But I also know that it is possible to move plants to new places and those deep roots let the transplants thrive and bloom. So I have hope that this move will let my husband and me really thrive in new ways. I feel so fortunate to have the wings to do that. And, while I will miss the old horned owl, our new home has a huge number of beautiful birds and I’m looking forward to learning all about them.
What fears do you have?
A good friend asked me this the other day and I responded that this place, Poet Farm, is truly magic. So many people sense that when they come here. I am afraid that the magic is limited to THIS location and that our new home will just be a place to live. Logically I know that we can make it feel like a haven, but still I fear that I will somehow lose that deep peaceful “home” feeling.
Note three words that you feel about this move. Describe each of them.
Anticipation - this is something we’ve dreamed about for a long time and now we get to see how it unfolds. I’m eager to learn about our new home. That means learning about the different trees and birds and other animals. It’s learning how to farm in a different environment.
Anxiety - Change is hard. Unknown things are scary. I definitely have to remind myself sometimes to just breathe.
Joy - I cannot describe how much I love my grandkids. They are SO excited that we are moving closer and I mirror that excitement. My husband has so many plans about how to make farm experiences adapted so that ALL our grandkids can enjoy spending carefree days at our farm. We’re going to make so many great memories together!
On Strategies for Navigating a Move and Looking Ahead
What strategies do you feel you most need to process this move in a way that is healthy and meaningful for you?
One of the things we learned in our moves overseas is the importance of saying goodbyes and having good closure. In many ways, I’ve been saying goodbye to this beloved farm for the whole past year. I’ve intentionally taken pictures of each season to post on our FB page. I’ve given away my dad’s favorite gladiola bulbs to neighbors and planted a few here for the new owners. We made the hard choice to leave our farm calendar here for the new owners. That’s a treasure where my parents recorded rainfall, bear visits, planting info, etc for over 50 years. Giving that away feels like a healthy way to pass the torch.
How have you typically handled ambiguity, change, and/or previous moves?
One thing that has helped me is to try to create “home” even if it’s just in a hospital room for a month. Flowers on the table, fresh baked treats for my family, and candles all help me feel that cozy feeling. We have some family traditions that also help us feel connected even in the midst of chaos. Trying to maintain the sanctity of Friday night pizza, for example, has helped us stay centered wherever we lived…even when that meant making cheese from yak milk and cooking our crust on an outdoor grill. I think focusing on the little daily things helps me cope with big changes. I might be in the middle of nowhere, but we WILL have pizza!
How have you established friendships and meaningful relationships over the years? How might that relate to relationships in your new location?
Ok, that IS a fear I have about this move. I do tend to meet kindred spirits everywhere, but I’m worried that northern Minnesota will be “too” foreign! What if they think I’m way too liberal or organic or direct? I don’t know how to do “Minnesota nice” OR make hotdish. Because our new property is surrounded by DNR forest and State Park, there ARE no neighbors. But I’m planning to reach out to the elementary school in town to ask about volunteering as a reading coach and looking at other volunteer opportunities in the area. Our realtor recommended frequenting the local diner so I guess the first step is finding one!
What advice do you have for others going through a move like this one?
It’s cliche, but communication is so important. I think naming the things/people you will miss helps. Tell people that you will miss them. My introverted husband doesn’t always verbally process, but he knows that I need that. It helps if I preface discussions with something like, “I’m not complaining or second guessing our move, but I just need to tell you that I am scared of living in the woods and being eaten by bears and wolves.” Find your comfort things and make sure you have them handy (for me it’s a good book and soft blanket).
What are your plans for adjusting to your new place?
I know that I do better with some routine and since I won’t be working or having animal chores right away, I’m going to pretend that unpacking is my job. I’m also going to make a priority of searching out a source of farm eggs and fresh produce. That will help it feel more familiar until we can establish our own garden and livestock.
Is there anything you are looking forward to learning or trying that would be new to you in your new place?
Growing up in Colorado, I didn’t have a lot of experience with water sports. I’m so eager to kayak on the St Croix River that runs beside our new property! My husband and I are both excited to create our own new farm systems from scratch. I’m also excited to learn how to use my new dishwasher, microwave, dryer, and air conditioning!
In Conclusion
When we purposefully let go of something to move onto something else, we have the opportunity to grieve and let grief guide and teach us along the way. As a friend of Josanne’s, I’ve witnessed first hand how this phrase is especially true in her own life and how she has embraced the both-and, and in the words of Susan Cain, the bittersweet, of her own life transition. Josanne shared with me the quote by John Muir, “The grand show is eternal. It is always sunrise somewhere; the dew is never all dried at once; a shower is forever falling; vapor is ever rising. Eternal sunset, eternal dawn and glowing…as the round earth rolls.” This month, I hope to inspire a space in your own life to take a moment and think about the grief that sits with you that has gone unnoticed and simply check in with yourself to recognize its role in your own life and hold that with compassion and curiosity.
