Selling the farm

Couple's green acres, animals, and programs for kids may fade into the sunset after emotional, financial hits

At Boxborough's Littlefield Farm, Jenny Duffy, 13, leads Chico from the barn. (Ellen Harasimowicz/Globe Correspondent)

Kate and Kevin Duffy never planned to buy a farm. They lived a tidy suburban life in Acton, with three kids, two careers, and a backyard small enough to mow in an hour. The biggest animal they owned was a dog.

Then, in 2004, Kate saw an ad for Littlefield Farm, an 11-room farmhouse in Boxborough with a two-story barn. No animals had lived there for years, but she had a vision of what it could be. She ran some numbers and persuaded Kevin to take a leap of faith. Four years ago last month, the five Duffys moved in.

And that was how Littlefield Farm - more recently, a place where pastures had been groomed into manicured lawns and a meadow was torn up for a swimming pool - once again became a farm. First, the Duffys bought a pony. Then a sheep. Then some goats. Eventually, the animal population grew to two ponies, two horses, four goats, one sheep, one very large pig, 14 chickens, three dogs, three rabbits, one cat, and some guinea pigs.

"This place just pulled me," said Kate Duffy, 46.

They started programs, which soon became popular in the community, that had children in the chicken coop collecting eggs and riding the ponies and horses. They brought in a psychologist to work with autistic children. In a town that was once devoted to farming, they gave postmillennial children a chance to spend time in a barn with animals. The Duffys didn't advertise, but nearly 1,000 youngsters showed up at farm programs during the past four years.

Then, this spring, the Duffys shocked the community by announcing that they were selling Littlefield Farm. They canceled most of their fall programs, and a "For Sale" sign sprang up beside the road. Their realtor has showed the farm, with an asking price of $1.2 million, six times. So far, they have received no offers.

"I feel sad," Kate Duffy said. "I feel OK if someone buys it and keeps it going. I care more about this staying a farm than I do so much about me running it."

Nancy Hubbard of Acton is rooting for the Duffys, hoping they can find a way to keep Littlefield Farm open. Hubbard's 8-year-old daughter, Emily, loves the farm. She spent three weeks at the summer program and takes horseback riding lessons.

"There's something so soothing about working with their hands and the animals," Hubbard said.

Emily was upset to hear the property might be sold, Hubbard said. The farm, she said, provides an alternative to more popular extracurricular activities for children.

"Acton tends to be the type of community where people start institutional sports at the age of 3," Hubbard said. "We're just not that kind of family."

Kate Duffy came across the ad for the 4-acre farm in 2004 as she was looking for both office space for her business as a life coach and stable space for a pony. When they saw the farm, they figured they could save on those costs - and Kate, who had founded the Evergreen Day School, now in Cambridge, could start programs for children.

Their suburban lives - Kate grew up in Belmont, Kevin in Lexington - hadn't prepared them for farm life. But Kevin, 45, said they feared that if they resisted the pull of the farm, they would later rue their decision.

"Would we be 70, in a rocking chair, and be regretting that we didn't go for it? We didn't want to look back and say, 'What if . . .' " he said.

The challenges came early. Late one night, a few months after they bought the farm, three horses escaped from their stalls.

"One of our neighbors was in the driveway beeping the horn because we didn't have a doorbell," Kevin said.

Kate was sick and drowsy because of cold medicine. The horses had run down the road and were standing on the commuter rail tracks. In the darkness, Kevin tried to shoo the horses into a trailer. He finally succeeded, minutes before a commuter train zipped by.

The Duffys learned the precariousness of raising animals. They remember the magic of their pig, Shirley, giving birth to 14 piglets a year ago, just a week before Kevin's father died. But two of the piglets didn't survive. And one recent afternoon, as Kate showed a reporter around the farm, suddenly a chicken shrieked from behind the goat pen. A small red fox held the chicken in its mouth. Kate crumpled a bit, turned away and said, "Oh, jeez." But this chicken was lucky - a few seconds later, it came racing across the grass, its feathers mussed, but unharmed.

The Duffys' three children, now all teenagers, had to adjust to farm life. The youngest, Jenny, now 13, thrived. She became a vegetarian. She helps with chores, feeding animals, cleaning stalls, bringing hay. (She requested to be exempt from farm work on school mornings, however, so she doesn't climb on the school bus smelling like a horse.) She said she was devastated when her parents told her they might move.

"I'm not very excited about it at all," she said.

But the Duffy children sometimes missed their mother. She was around, but deeply focused on the animals and the farm programs. It was frustrating that they could see her but not have her attention.

When Kate told them that if she didn't run the farm, she'd probably have to work long hours in the city, one of her daughters responded, "That might be better."

The Duffys' decision to sell came after an emotionally draining and financially difficult year. Both of Kevin's parents died in 2007. His father's death, in July, hit especially hard. He had moved into the farmhouse from Florida to get treatment in Boston for his cancer. But he went faster than anyone expected, and Kevin said he was hit hard.

"He was my best friend," Kevin said.

Earlier this year, a close friend of Kate's also died of cancer. The tragedies made the Duffys reexamine their lives, their plans to run the farm. Kevin said he wondered if he wanted to spend the rest of his life coming home from his sales job to mow fields and build paddocks. Kate said she felt a bit restless to start a new venture.

They struggled financially, too. They charged for the programs - $315 for a week of half-day summer camp for children, for example, and $250 for birthday parties - but it was hard to make the farm pay for itself. Kevin switched jobs, after he felt a decision in his former company lacked integrity, and started over with a sales job in electronics remarketing and recycling. His pay cut was significant.

"We spent everything and we spent all our reserve," Kate said.

But try as they have to leave the farm, these days it feels like the farm won't leave them. They said they talk more often about taking down the "For Sale" sign.

Kate said she plans to get a job outside the farm to bring in some extra money.

"We haven't made the final decision about the sale," she said. "But our heart feels like it's still here."

Added Kevin, "You really can't ignore the positive energy."

If they stay, Kate said, she'd like to tear down an old small barn and build a place for an after-school program. She also said she wants to start a program for teenagers.

And if they stay, she said she would really like to get one more animal: a baby lamb.

Kathleen Burge can be reached at kburge@globe.com