As told by Jen Marlow of Red Mud Farm.
Names have never been my forte. I’m often drawn to the obvious and only dissuaded when that is pointed out to me. Given that, it may not be surprising that “Marlow Farm” was my first idea. It worked in that we are the Marlow family and this is our farm. Beyond that, however, it failed. It failed in the fact that this particular “we” includes multiple generations who do not all share a surname. It also failed in the fact that our farm has a long family history to which my married name is a recent addition. After some thought, we went back to the drawing board.
As ideas got tossed around, I was struck by one thing that simply felt right. It needed to be something that was related to, or tied back to Georgia red clay. Nothing else summed up the farm history, our fight to make this space we had available to us fertile again, and the connection to this small patch of earth quite like this one concept. From our childrens’ knees to the soles of our boots, the iron rich red earth of north Georgia is omnipresent in our lives.
My grandfather used to joke that red mud runs through our veins. Maybe it does. All I know for sure is that it makes a very appropriate name for our farm.