The dirt on how the PR girl met the farmer

March 11 marks four years since I met the farmer that would change the course of my life forever. You see,  that day I went on a date with “SnowboardingFarmer,” aka Riley Johnson, a Pemberton guy I met on an online dating site.

We won’t talk about how he postponed our date twice; once because his snowmobile broke down and the second time because his basement flooded and two baby rabbits died on the same day. Those things don’t matter anymore.

March 11 was the perfect day to meet him.

Perfect, because he called me that day to see if I would be able to get together – THAT AFTERNOON – for a drink after work. No notice, at all. So, I met him wearing an old plaid shirt with jeans, and unwashed hair frizzing in a ponytail. He showed up in a plaid shirt too and came clomping up the stairs to the Mexican Corner in Whistler wearing huge mud splattered work boots.


“What is THIS?” I asked myself as he sat across from me with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

Both of us showing each other who we were. Me, inadvertently, since I would have made way more of an effort for a blind date if I knew that it would be happening that day. Him, by design, since if any Whistler girl is going to embark on a relationship with a Pemberton farmer you might as well show her the dirt up front.

After eleven years in Whistler marching down quaint cobblestone lanes in heeled boots, working my way up the ladder in Whistler Blackcomb’s public relations department, and networking and attending special events like a fiend, finding myself falling in love with this muddy farmer was both the most surprising event in my life and the easiest thing in the world.

One of the first ways I acknowledged the significance of my new relationship was a call I made to SPUD organic produce delivery. When they asked me why I was cancelling my longstanding and recurring order, my answer was simple.

I fell in love with a farmer.