I needed to find a column topic to write about this week, but I was dry. Absolutely dry. While I have lots and lots of “notes” for various topics I could address, nothing was gelling.
“I need to pick a subject and write about it,” I complained to my husband, “but I’m so sick of politics.”
“Maybe that’s what you should write about,” he replied. “You can’t be the only one.”
He’s right. I can’t possibly be alone. Who else is sick of politics?
So, to leave off writing about politics for once, I’d like to relate what we do in a typical day. Doubtless our daily routine may be boring for some … but hey, it’s better than politics.
Our days typically center around two activities: writing (my husband and I are both freelancers) and farming projects or chores (we live on a small homestead in a deeply rural part of north Idaho). Since moving here to our “retirement” farm over four years ago, we have been engaged in turning it into a small and (mostly) self-sufficient homestead, the same goal we’ve had in our last two homes. This has been a passion of ours almost since we got married 35 years ago.
This time of year, we’re ramping up our outdoor activities and working on livestock and garden infrastructure. In the spring, the cows usually stay out on the pastures rather than coming into the barn, so there are fewer early barn chores to do, such as mucking out the overnight mess.
I’m an early riser, so by dawn I’m sitting at the computer drinking tea and working on a freelance writing project. It might be this column; it might be a blog post; it might be an outline for one of my inspirational romance novels; it might be my daily fiction word count; it might be a magazine article; it might be a pitch to an editor. On some days, it’s all of the above.
When my husband wakes up, I make him coffee and release our Quaker parrot for some cage-free time. The parrot likes to sit on my hand for about 90 minutes each morning, so I can’t get any writing done during that time. It’s my “read the news” time instead. (The parrot, incidentally, belongs to our 27-year-old career Navy daughter, so we’re parrot-sitting for a few decades while she serves her country. This is an excellent reason why you should never let a 16-year-old get a long-lived pet.)
After walking the dog, it’s time to do whatever homesteading project we’ve set ourselves for the day. It might be building something (more garden beds; a milking stall; a chicken coop; a platform cart). It might be installing something (a drip irrigation system on the blueberries; mulch on the garden beds). It might be cleaning something (the porch; the barn; the shed). It might be fencing something. It might be splitting firewood. Whatever it is, we usually put four or five hours into this activity.
Our Jersey heifer surprised us by having her calf two weeks early. As of this writing, the baby is only 3 days old, so she’s still getting her newborn colostrum. In a few days, however, I’ll be separating mama and baby at night and milking the new mother in the mornings (we only do once-a-day milking). However, because the early birth caught us by surprise, our current project involves building a calf pen and milking stall. After this, morning milking will be one of my daily chores, and small-scale dairy production (making cheese, butter, yogurt, etc.) will be added to my daily routine.
Afternoons tend to be devoted more to writing projects than outdoor projects. We’re a couple of senior citizens, so sustained physical labor for eight or ten hours is no longer appealing.
Later in the summer, our chores will include picking blueberries and strawberries, and working on whatever project arises. This summer, for example, our goal is to install a hand pump for our well. Power outages in our area are common, and since our well pump is electric, a loss of power means a loss of water. A hand pump will address that vulnerability. Autumn chores include harvesting the garden, splitting firewood, preparing for winter and canning.
We haven’t had television reception or a television set since 1993, so the house isn’t filled with the blare of noise. Nor do we have smartphones, so we’re not tied by an electronic umbilical cord wherever we go. Except for our habit of scanning the morning news over coffee/tea, it’s entirely possible for us to go an entire day without knowing what’s going on in the wider world.
Many readers will find this schedule boring, tedious, insecure, unpredictable, or unappealing. But you know what? It’s what we want to do. We chose this lifestyle because we love rural living, we love working with our hands, we love tapping into our creativity, and we love the journey toward self-sufficiency. Our income is variable and sometimes low, but then so are our living expenses. We are never bored. Sometimes panicked, yes (“Quick! The cows are out!”), but never bored. Our lives bring us contentment.
That factor – contentment – is one of the most underappreciated qualities of all. (1 Timothy 6:6: “But godliness with contentment is great gain.”)
Some people thrive on exciting adventures. Others thrive on building successful careers. Us – we thrive on a flourishing garden and a productive homestead. We’re funny like that. Indeed, our motto is 1 Thessalonians 4:11-12: “[M]ake it your ambition to lead a quiet life: You should mind your own business and work with your hands, just as we told you, so that your daily life may win the respect of outsiders and so that you will not be dependent on anybody.”
But this lifestyle is also miles and worlds away from politics. What plays out on the national and international stage is important, of course, but it can also lead to information overload. Sometimes I just want to split some firewood or milk a cow, you know?
So there you go. I hope you enjoyed your little break from politics. And if you need a moment of “Aww,” here’s a photo of our newborn calf, whom we christened Stormy.