Kevin and I consider ourselves wildly lucky people. From quite literally the moment we met— itself a stroke of fate caused by a last minute change of Kevin’s summer camp placement from Wisconsin to Iowa — we have had the most tremendous luck. We are the sort of folk who lose their phones in a taxi and it comes back to them unharmed. Kevin has been under both a tree and a roof that fell on the spot he was standing moments after he walked away. From lost wallets that reappear, to random meetings that lead us to incredible friendships, to finding Gartur by chance on Rightmove, to being matched with the most incredible foster kid — the story of our lives is woven with moments of extraordinary serendipity.
Of course there is the other side to each of those stories - the wallets lighter in cash when they returned, the reason we had to move quickly in the dead of winter, the damage caused by falling trees, but in the end the stories aren’t about the hurdles, but how you overcome them.
This weekend one of our barns burned down. The old potting shed and everything in it is gone in a pile of ash and rubble. All of the tools we’ve gathered for 10 years, bee equipment, seeds I’ve saved, thousands of plant starts for the season, a freezer full of meat, my favourite garden bench, our pizza oven. Gone.
We were woken at 8am on Sunday by our volunteer, Remy telling us there was a fire. In our bleary eyed state, I assumed it was something Georgia had burned in the kitchen - toast that had been charred or eggs that had been forgotten in the ban. As Kevin and the volunteers rushed outside, I went saw the potting shed, one of our old long byres engulfed in flames.
I nervously called 999 - the first time in my life I have ever had to do it - and I described where we were. It is a task I have done hundreds of times over but couldn’t event remember our postcode. Kevin ran up and woke up the kids and I moved the cars. In what can only be called a miracle, our current volunteers are firefighters in France. They flew into action (Remy in just his pants), stopping the fire from spreading to the house adjacent barns and oil tanks. They worked tirelessly until the fire department arrived while I kept the children on the other side of the farm. I can not stand to think about where we would be without them.
After some time, a fire appliance and crew arrived from Doune. They had been up all night fighting a brush fire near Loch Lomond, and they took the next two hours dampening down the fire and ensuring it couldn’t reignite. The wood was very old and once it caught (likely a mouse chewing through electrics), it was gone. We were so grateful for their care and attention. Next were our neighbours from Green Aspirations, our local farmer and our lairds, all offering kind words and help.
Our electrician Stewart popped up unasked to rewire a fuse to make sure I could still use my washing machine for the kids’ school clothes this week. Another neighbour bought food to get us through a couple of days as the freezer in there was full of meat. Friends are visiting throughout the week to help clean up. We have a loan of tools, offers of seedlings and strong coffee.
As I’ve wandered around the farm for the last day, I’ve been overwhelmed with gratitude for every thing that should’ve been in that barn, but wasn’t. Kevin’s favourite pair of garden gloves that had been carelessly left in the wrong shed. My beloved garden toolbelt— slung off at my desk instead of hanging it up in the potting shed where it belongs. My favourite pea seeds I’d just reordered after Loretta ate my saved seed that I had planted and moved to the polytunnel the night before. We had planned to move the goats into that barn, but hadn’t got around to it. Broody - our oldest chicken - who had been sitting on eggs in the greenhouse made it out frazzled, but well enough to scratch up some beans in the polytunnel.
What luck, we’ve said over and over. It could’ve been so much worse.
This week’s newsletter was supposed to be about the incredible success of our Crowdmatch with Creative Scotland. What a wonderful and incredible community we have both here and online. Thank you so so much. Kat Begg, our operations manager, will be working to pull together rewards and emails this week while I continue to project manage the farm.
The kids have handled it brilliantly. Ellis in his calm way helped the younger two. Theo was concerned that the ice cream he’d bought the night before was in the freezer. Georgia has found it the hardest and this morning is worried about going to school and something happening while she is away. I stayed awake all night fearful that something else would catch fire, but I know that fear will fade. Kevin found a small residual fire in the wreckage needed quenching once more.
The timing of the fire is terrible - we have 6 weeks until our event season kicks off properly and we have no tools, a massive additional project to manage in the cleanup, nowhere to put the loos (we had decided on Friday they were going to be in that barn), no seeds for additional sowings, no tomato plants, limited bee equipment and unexpected costs.
And even amongst that, I would still tell you we are so so lucky. It is just stuff. It was in a part of the farm away from where the main business operations take place, so we can still reopen once we make things safe. We have insurance. Theo’s ice cream is replaceable. Our volunteers kept us safe and are here to help with the clean up. We aren’t afraid to work hard and it could have been unimaginably worse.
We are the luckiest people alive, because in all of this, that is the only story worth telling. The rest is just how we got there.
Wow. So glad to hear everyone is ok. The bravery of all really comes out in your writing.
As a child we lost a farm due to a sow knocking over a heat lamp. We lived in a mobile home next to the barns that were destroyed. The fire engines were on strike so the army were sent. The insurance had expired but the family survived and were glad to have the chance to start again.
Sounds like you have an amazing community around you.
These are defining moments and as much as moments can define us, we can also define them.
The weird thing about luck is the harder you work at appreciating life, the more you get.
Fortune smiles on the brave they say.
And you are certainly that.
Disasters and near-misses definitely focus us on the humans and the other things we are grateful for in our lives. They strip us back to what is important. All the same, really sorry that you are having to deal with this at a time that should be pure celebration of your future plans taking shape. Wishing you buckets of strength.