The Season We’re In: Finding Our Way Back to Homesteading
I used to smirk a little when I heard people talk about “seasons” of life, but now? I get it.
For the past two or three years, we’ve entered a quieter season. We sold off all 12 of the pigs and almost the entire flock of sheep. One elderly goat passed away, and we found ourselves keeping only what we affectionately call our “pets.” For those keeping score at home, that means one horse, one sheep, one goat, and plenty of chickens and ducks.
Currently we are more of a chicken-and-duck farm than a sheep farm. And that’s okay. For 13 years, we were a sheep herding bunch of city-turned-country loons, with the eventual foray into dairy goats and heritage pigs. And it was literally a dream. The kids grew up on our little farm and truly had the childhood we hoped they would have. We grew too, as we learned to manage a huge vegetable garden, milk animals, assist in births and, in the less fun times, say goodbye when the time was right.
A break from that life may have been inevitable.
We’re not getting any younger. The kids are now, officially, teenagers. There are still places we want to see and things we want to do before we shuffle off this mortal coil. That said, I have to admit to feeling a bit rudderless in the past few years. Homesteading (or whatever you want to call our way of life) was so deeply ingrained in the fabric of our existence here that stepping away from it felt unnatural at best, and potentially failure at worst.
But lately I feel the pull again. To get back to meat from the freezer and not from the grocers. To simple cold remedies from the garden and not from the pharmacy. Back to waking on chilly mornings with hot brewed coffee, a quiet barn and goats waiting to be milked. For Mom and Dad farmers at Punk N Poultry, it was one of our favorite parts of the day!
The truth is, we needed a break.
We needed time away from trying to do and run everything on our property, as well as let go of the guilt of feeling like you’re not doing enough. That time away allowed us to learn a lot about what we want out of this chapter of our lives.
After all, a homestead is a long-term journey, not a productivity contest. Our break felt like failure, but in reality it was clarity and rest which bred observation and preparation. And it gave the kids time to travel, to see a world outside of our little farm-ette, and to experience a slower version of their lives.
It also gave us a chance to reflect on what really matters to us now versus 13 years ago. Admittedly they are very different.
We got to ask ourselves questions we hadn’t asked in over a decade: What do we want our homestead to provide? As we age, what can we reasonably expect from our bodies and our time? What fits our current season of life?
These days, we are less focused on the experimental side of homesteading - or almost. I will probably forever be the gardener who dedicates one third of my gardening space to the quirky, unusual and impractical. After all, two-thirds of my life is already dedicated to the quirky and unusual (looking at you, family). But we know we could have sheep forever and horses never (again).
I truly loved having the sheep, even when they drove me crazy. On the other hand, our current horse will be my last horse. Technically she is our daughter’s, but I think the adults in the house just aren’t “horse people”. Who knows? Maybe our daughter will have a horse farm, and I can visit as a guest. My days as an equestrian are firmly in the past.
Likewise, we will probably have chickens or ducks for eternity. They are so entertaining, provide delicious eggs and are just so damn cute for the small amount of effort they ask in return.
The garden will take some rethinking. Without a proper irrigation system, watering becomes an exhausting chore during our long hot summers. The gardens and farms that seem to work best have proper irrigation and drainage, weather protection, and layout that naturally cut back on weeds. That, sadly, is not our reality right now. A few days of Texas rain and you can go from tidy garden to jungle overnight!
As we return to homesteading with purpose, I’d like to home in on rebuilding the systems that make the homestead function efficiently—from composting and food preservation to the aforementioned garden irrigation system. We’re focusing less on doing more and more on doing things better.
Our priorities:
- Installing rainwater collection/irrigation for the main vegetable garden
- Creating permaculture-in-practice guilds around the fruit trees
- Improving our layout by fencing key areas to protect trees and shrubs
- Being more intentional in choosing what we grow/raise ( what will we use, what can we realistically maintain, and what gives the best return on investment)
- Creating farm routines that work for the whole family (daily animal checks, weekly garden maintenance, monthly homestead planning sessions)
- Building habits that can survive extended illness, busy times or a simple vacation
Mostly, I’d like to reconnect with the joy we found in homesteading in the first place. I want to experience it all over again - the satisfaction of gathering eggs, harvesting vegetables, welcoming a newborn lamb, or simply spending time with the whole crew outdoors.
After all, chickens don’t keep score and the farm doesn’t care how long you’ve been away. Now is a chance to begin again with the purposefulness of years past, but with uniquely tailored goals grown from this recent experience.
Renewal with purpose.
I guess that’s just the season I’m in.