Perspective: It’s Okay to Quit
Story and Photography by Robin Osgood
In early April, Robin Osgood, then co-owner of Wild Child Creamery, opened up to the world in a sentimental post on Instagram to share that her once thriving business was closing. The note signed off with: “Sorry for any disappointment, we really tried, I promise.” In this Perspective piece we hear more from Robin about the decision to shutter her cheese shop.
We were a weekend away from opening our season, making chèvre in the middle of one of California’s most famous wine regions and optimistically confident that we were going to sell out of our cheese this year. All our goats just gave birth and were fresh with milk. So the decision to close shortly thereafter came as a surprise to many.
Our Wild Child Creamery journey started in April of 2020 with three goats and a plan to spring graze, milk and make fresh cheese from a small herd that would organically grow each year. We did not strive to be a big business; we started with the idea that serving just the Central Coast was the most sustainable thing we could accomplish. And I wanted to continue in my parents’ footsteps and farm alongside them on our beautiful property nestled in the Adelaida hills. There they dry farm both wine grapes and organic walnuts. Starting this goat dairy and creamery seemed like the perfect fit for our family and this region.
After a couple years of really hard work under our belts, we discussed closing the business. It may not have been apparent on social media, or to our customers who had been waiting six months for our season to open again, but this was not the first time we had this talk. Fear over the unsustainability of the entire operation had been rearing its head since early 2022, but we decided then to breed our goats in the fall or we would definitely have no milk come spring. The cost of feed had not been kind that year and we knew the possibility of a price increase was inevitable. We had so much invested in our animals, and in our product. It was hard to make a choice. Do we throw in the towel after building a brand new barn? Do we give up just before we had a significant milking herd? Are we really going to stop just before our first full year of operating?
Alfalfa in 2020 was $18 to $22 a bale depending on where it was purchased, and is an integral part of a dairy goat’s diet. In 2023, we were paying $32 to $33 a bale. This incredible increase in price on something so non-negotiable to our herd was suffocating us. And that didn’t include our CDFA fees, vet bills, bedding and all the other added costs. After two years of shortened selling seasons due to delays in the construction of both our kitchen and our barn, we weren’t able to operate even a full season. We were convinced this year was going to be our big year. But finally facing the reality of it all and just focusing on the numbers, we agreed on closing the Sunday before our first week of sales.
We gave ourselves a couple days to announce it on social media, and once that was done, we knew it could not be taken back. Writing that post, just days after I announced our cheese becoming available, was incredibly emotional. I imagine everyone was expecting a much different announcement. I felt sadness, embarrassment, anger and fear of what people would think. There was a great feeling of shame that we just could not make our business work. To will it to work.
All we wanted to do was get away. But we still had our goats and equipment to deal with, and the flood of emotions about letting our animals go became heavy. We decided early on we would keep a small herd as there were goats I just could not sell, but we couldn’t keep them all.
The opportunity to work with animals and spend much of our time outside are some of the many great aspects of owning a creamery. In a lot of ways, it was a dream job. My partner Chris and I have been working this business all on our own. We milked, cared for the goats, made cheese, delivered product, handled all the marketing and social media. We were there when most of our goats were born. What some businesses would divide into four or five positions, we did all of without stopping to consider the mental health cost and the toll on our relationship. Our overwhelming desire to make it work had bulldozed many of the basic needs we had as humans and as partners. It is only after the final decision that I realized I had minimized so much of its effects on my life. I had literally given it all.
We aren’t sure what is next for us. My last plan just sank to the bottom of the ocean, and I have only a few pieces of wreckage left to cling to. I am trying to be brave and let things come. I have learned through loss before that sometimes you have to let go for better opportunities to show up. There is a bittersweet taste to it all, but I am certain now that it is okay to release the tight grip, to allow myself to step away. After all, caring about something is one of the bravest things we can do, as we allow the possibility for things to go right as much as there is possibility for things to go wrong. I am trying to appreciate all the great qualities, learning experiences and people we have met on this adventure, and take in what a gift it was to just try. My parents instilled in me the great quality of believing I could try anything and they are incredibly proud we took this on, even if it did not work out.
We have been surrounded by love since the closing and we are grateful to all who have sent messages of hope and faith that things will be okay. I can now wake up, make myself some toast and eggs, slather it with our chèvre and just enjoy it for being what it is. At the end of all this, our product is still fantastic, and I am so happy that for a little while, you all could enjoy it with us, too.
