When my children were very young, they insisted on naming things.  Anything that the three of them deemed important had to have a name, one chosen after debate, evaluation, and then agreement.  Perhaps that was why Cynthia Rylant’s charming book, The Old Woman Who Named Things , was such a favorite of theirs.

So, it was not unexpected that the naming of our farm was going to be a big deal. A. Very. Big. Deal.  Though they are now far away in Brooklyn, leading very un-farmlike lives, there has been much back and forth between all of us about what to name the farm, even though there was never any question that it had to have a name.  

Of course, since the farm was built in 1861, it’s probably had more than a few iterations of naming, depending on who lived here, what they farmed, and whether they were at all inclined to the practice of assigning names.  We bought the farm from the author Jon Katz, who had not only named the farm (and memorably so), but continues to use that name for the place to which he moved.  So, scratch that name…

At any rate, after much backing and forthing between the Smith family five, current stewards of this lovely piece of earthly heaven, we have settled on Hebron Hills Farm, living as we do in the village of West Hebron, N.Y., and surrounded as we are by hills in every direction, and occupying the slopes of one.   Our son’s friend had crafted a picture for his latest album, which he kindly shared with us as our very own logo, as well.  Having a farm name and logo feels pretty special…momentous, even:

And now that we have a farm with a name, and a logo with sheep, it only follows that there will be sheep…but that is another blog post altogether.