Against All Advice: I Traded My Suit for Carhartts at 47

At 47, I had a life that many would question why I left. I'd successfully bought, renovated, and cherished several homes, cultivated a wonderful circle of friends, and enjoyed a vibrant social life. My office was prime, my wardrobe boasted gorgeous clothes and power suits, and my briefcase was practically an extension of my arm. For decades, I'd thrived in the corporate world, meticulously climbing the ladder and building a formidable client base. As a single woman, my career left little room for anything else; I essentially lived for my clients and in it’s prime, I loved it. Despite the all consuming nature of my career, I did find time to travel and explore. I loved to cook and entertain and I spent my Saturday mornings in my garden.

Not a bad life, Right?

Beneath the polished veneer, a quiet yearning had begun to stir. A yearning for something real, something rooted, something it seemed must be… green and involve nature. The idea, when it first bloomed, seemed ludicrous. "I'm going to buy a farm," I announced , and watched as the polite smiles froze on my friends' faces. "A farm?" my sister echoed later, "Olga you can’t do that yourself! You've barely even seen a farm up close!" Everyone, it seemed, had advice. And all of it , although well intentioned, was overwhelmingly against the idea. "You're too old to start over." "Farming is back-breaking work, not for someone used to air conditioning." "It's a huge financial risk." "You'll be lonely." The chorus of well-meaning warnings grew louder with every passing day, a symphony of doubt that threatened to drown out my nascent dream.

Trading my comfy life for Green Pastures

For the first time in a long time, I wasn't listening to anything but my inner yearnings. The corporate world, once a challenging arena, had become a gilded cage. The thrill of the early days had faded, replaced by a dull ache of dissatisfaction. I spent my evenings devouring books on trending ideas, permaculture, sustainable farming, and soil health. I attended conferences and classes wherever offered. I walked acre after acre looking for THE farm. I Googled "how to drive a tractor" and "what is crop rotation" with the same intensity I once applied to quarterly reports. The day I finally put in my notice, my friends and colleagues looked at me as if I’d announced I was joining the circus. But as I walked out of that life and into my new life a lightness I hadn't felt in years settled over me. The air, even the city air, seemed fresher. The future, once a meticulously planned itinerary, stretched out before me, vast and uncharted and brimming with possibilities. I felt younger then I’d felt in years! I didn't have a farm yet. I didn't know the first thing about caring for pastures or tending to livestock. I was 47, single, and embarking on a journey that everyone advised me against. And for the first time in a very long time, I felt truly, gloriously alive. The briefcase-carrying life was over. The dirt-under-her-fingernails life was about to begin. And somehow, I knew, it was going to be magnificent.

Stay tuned for the next chapter, where I take the first daunting steps towards a new life.