My story isn’t that different than most small dairy farms that are located near expanding cities. Our dairy sits a short drive outside of Wichita, Kan., and while we still have many crop fields as neighbors, we have an ever-growing number of people moving to our area to escape the close quarters of town. With that comes some tough moments, but an even greater number of wonderful times and learning opportunities.

See, I’m the kind of neighbor that feels like I spend most of my interactions with neighbors doing one of the following:

• Apologizing for our smell
• Asking forgiveness when my cows run through their yards or fields
• Waving as I ask our neighbors to wait for our equipment to pass

Maybe it’s a fault of mine. Maybe I’m self-conscious about our farm, but I often feel like a burden to our neighborhood. Sometimes, I feel like we take more than we give.

The artic freeze in January reminded me that we bring more to our neighborhood than just fresh milk and the smell of cow poop.

My dad taught me to be the kind of neighbor that:

• Will spend the morning after a big snowstorm clearing the neighbor’s driveway
• Bringing by a thermometer for a sick pet
• Stopping for a friendly conversation if I see a neighbor in the yard

It snowed around 14 inches total in south central Kansas in the middle of January. That’s something we’re not designed to handle. It gave me so many opportunities for positive interactions with my neighbors, whether it be snow plowing or waving at kids building snowmen.

At the end of the day, I find that being a good neighbor doesn’t mean being perfect. It doesn’t mean being an exceptional farmer. Being a good neighbor simply requires being a good human being.

Be kind. Be approachable. Be friendly. Understand that not everyone will love living by a farm, but don’t let that slow you down. Hopefully, you are blessed like I am to live by friendly people that are both understanding and accepting of all the special quirks of sharing a fence with a farm.