She took unpaid leave from her job at the agricultural equipment company, then eventually resigned when it became clear the farm required her full attention.
Her former supervisor offered to help her find a consulting position that could be performed remotely.
She thanked him.
But for the moment, she couldn't think beyond the next invoice.
She had inherited eighty-seven acres, several worn-out buildings, a small poultry operation, and more financial uncertainty than she'd ever experienced.
The bank didn't immediately threaten foreclosure.
Her father had maintained a respectable relationship with the lender for years.
But the debt was real.
The equipment financing was real.
And the operating losses continued whether she was grieving or not.
The loan officer assigned to her account was a middle-aged woman who had known her father professionally.
She invited the young farmer to a meeting.
They sat inside a small office overlooking the bank parking lot.
The loan officer placed several documents on the desk.
Then spoke gently.
“I know this has been a difficult time.”
The young woman nodded.
“Thank you.”
“But we need to discuss how the farm is going to generate enough cash to meet its obligations.”
The farmer looked toward the papers.
She already knew the numbers.
She'd reviewed them every night.
The loan officer continued.
“There are options. You could sell some equipment, reduce the livestock operation, pursue additional income, or consider selling a portion of the property.”
The young woman nodded.
Then asked how long she had before the bank required a formal restructuring plan.
The loan officer gave her the relevant dates.
They weren't unreasonable.
They were simply frightening.
She needed to demonstrate progress within several months.
Otherwise, the bank would have to consider more restrictive measures under the loan agreements.
The farmer thanked her.
Then returned home.
That evening, she stood in the center of the old poultry house listening to the ventilation fans.
The hens moved quietly.
The feed lines rattled.
A few birds called from the far end of the building.
She'd known those sounds since childhood.
For the first time, she wondered whether she should let the entire operation go.
Not because she hated farming.
Because she couldn't see a way to make it work.
She walked outside.
The sun was setting behind the foothills.
A light wind moved through the trees.
And the farmhouse windows reflected orange light across the yard.
She stared toward the old packing shed.
The building her father wanted to convert into a recycling facility.
Its siding was faded.
One door hung crookedly.
And weeds grew along the foundation.
She felt anger rising.
Her father had spent years talking about that building.
Years collecting equipment.