Hillary's Rebuild the Farm Fund

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I am David Reed. My grandfather was a farmer. I spent much of my formative years there amongst his animals and barns, exploring the land. From him I developed a reverence for self-reliance and caring for the earth. As a young man, I chose to follow in my grandfather's footsteps and this led to me and my wife purchasing 15 acres, an old brick farmhouse with a dilapidated barn in northern NY. We were going to follow my dream of self-subsistance...on Songbyrd Farm. I worked that little patch of ground for nearly five years before circumstances punctured my dream balloon and I was thrust onto another trajectory.

Nevertheless, during that time, my daughter Hillary was born on that old farm. Though her mother and I eventually parted, Hillary came of age in farm country. She grew up with other farm kids and their families. She worked on their farms. She fell in love with farm life. It's in her blood, her essence. When fate smiled on her later in her life and allowed her to have her own little farm in CT, she jumped at the opportunity.

For the past several years, Hillary has owned and operated Petrichor Farm in New Hartford, CT. She single-handedly raised tasty organic pork, chickens, ducks, eggs, fabulous vegetables and breathtakingly beautiful flowers and sold them in her community.

She resourcefully designed and built greenhouses, chicken houses, potting sheds, with her own hands (and with a little help from her friends!) from recycled, repurposed materials. She tenderly loves and cares for all her animals - “They are family to me,” she'll tell you. She whole-heartedly husbanded her myriad animals during sickness and health, attended their births and deaths and totally delighted in their personalities and antics. She'd ocassionally remind us, “No farmers, no food.”

Until yesterday.

It was October 18, her 46th birthday. I called her in the morning to wish her a Happy Birthday. She was excited that there was a crew installing a new roof on her home. We signed off saying we'd meet for a Birthday celebration on Sunday.

Then all hell broke loose.

I was working on my computer when I was notified that I had a message. Incredulously, there was a photo of Hillary standing before the smoldering ruins of her home. Aghast, I immediately phoned. When I eventually got through, Hillary was in shock. Tearfully she said, “Dad it's all gone.” The Red Cross had her and her boyfriend in a shelter. Her dogs and cats had been taken to another shelter. The farm animals were unharmed, as were the barn and sheds, but the pump was ruined so they have no water nor electricity. Still, she was hopeful that the next day she could return and sift through the rubble to see if she could reclaim anything. Anything.

When I spoke with her this morning, she was further devastated. She hadn't eaten or slept. Apparently the house reignited during the night and whatever might have been salvaged was hopelessly gone. Just gone. No clothes. No furniture. No appliances. No art, photos, keepsakes. No NOTHING!

That is why I am appealing to my friends, family and fans now for whatever financial assistance you might contribute. I know my daughter; she wouldn't ask for this sort of help, not because of pride, but because she takes responsibility for her life and her choices. I know she wants to keep this legacy alive and hopes to locate a mobile home to her property so that she can continue to tend the animals without worrying about predation.