Homestead Diary

So true!

When I was a young mom, I gardened a little. But my big guilty pleasure was reading novels while eating Reece’s Peanut Butter Cups.

Nowadays, with running our little place and my writing, downtime is limited. Also, we don't have TV. Our satellite internet is way too slow for Netflix or any other kind of TV streaming, so reading is still my favorite way to relax.

Instead of a novel, I’ll often go for shorter reads, like magazines. My latest guilty pleasure is the Food Network magazine, which my sister lends me. Though I guess not much has changed, since I also read it while eating chocolate.

My favorite part of the magazine isn’t the lavish recipes, but the “Star Diary”—where a celebrity chef dishes about the yummy food they ate and cooked over the course of the day. They’ll also share details of their photo shoots or TV segments or when they hang out with other Food Network celebrities.

I’m often in awe of the work ethic of these talented folks, how easily they can throw together a complicated dish, and everything they get done in a day—why I find “Star Diary” not just entertaining but inspiring. It got me thinking about what running a little homestead might look like to someone else.

So here’s a glimpse of an early fall day at Berryridge Farm, starring yours truly.

It’s a gorgeous, sunny day, but the forecast calls for rain the next three days. There’s loads to do outside so I give up writing for today. (You will note that unlike “Star Diary” I don’t mention what time we get up, because you would think we are slackers for sure!)

Much of my life pretty physical—gardening, compost-digging, and chopping wood—so I devote a fair amount of my routine to staying strong and flexible. I start my morning with about 20 minutes of super-basic Tai Chi I learned from a YouTube video. I’ve been doing it for about 7 months, and it must be beneficial since I’ve never felt better.

Breakfast is simple: a cup of very strong, very sugary black tea and a big bowl of our own blueberries—our blueberries are almost done so I really savor these. Instead of my usual nut-butter sandwich, I roast a few handfuls of almonds and walnuts for quick energy—I’ve decided to get a bike ride in before starting my outdoor work.

I bike most days, if it’s not raining. I often tell myself my time would be better spent working on our place, but biking is how I keep my back limber. Besides, it’s kind of a meditative experience for me, and I get a lot of writing ideas while I ride. I chow down on the nuts and off I go.

It’s a lovely ride—not too warm—and our main road has very little traffic so it’s perfect for cycling. As usual, I admire the picturesque scenery, passing by imposing, wooded foothills, and a small lake. On this calm day, the green firs and the red and gold of the maples are reflected in the still water.

Back home, I do some leg and back stretches, then fuel up: a big bowl of yogurt sweetened with maple syrup, and a piece of seed bread spread with a thick layer of peanut butter. Then my real day begins.

As beautiful as the day is, the coming rain means lots of chores that need to be done today. Our blueberry shrubs are pretty much done bearing, and the bird netting is dry at the moment. Once the rain hits it’ll be wet for days or even weeks—and too wet to fold—so I do that first.

Undoing the berry nets

The smaller blueberry patch takes about an hour: the nets get pretty tangled up with the poultry fencing and hardware cloth surrounding the seven shrubs. In a lot of places I’ve jerry-rigged a way to close gaps with bread ties, and undoing them is really painstaking.

Sadly, I find a patch of tiny bones and feathers wound into the net—and take a moment to mourn the little bird that got stuck in there.

With the net down, it’s far easier to pick berries. One bush is still bearing, and I get about 1 ½ quarts. Then I pick up all the berries that have dropped, to keep ants and hornets from moving in.

The nets on the bigger blueberry patch need removing too. These larger nets can be really cumbersome to pull down without getting caught on the shrubs. Sometimes John helps with this chore but he’s working on wood splitting. Filling our woodsheds is the priority this time of year!

Finally I get the nets off—they’re kind of damp so I store them in the carport to dry off before folding—and pick up the fallen berries. And now the season is officially over.

Approaching the house to put the berries inside, I see we haven’t gotten our skylight cover off…

We have a skylight in the kitchen—we love it, it brightens our main room wonderfully. But in the summer, the sun comes in at a direct angle and makes the whole front of the house very hot. Plus the beam of light shines directly into the pantry, heating foodstuffs we would like to stay cool.

We’ve devised an easy solution: early in the summer, we’ll cover the skylight with a white fabric shower curtain, and weigh it down with dumbbell weights and lumber scraps.

The hot weather has been over for weeks. And again, the cover is dry at the moment so might as well get it down before it’s wet. John hauls the ladder out of the shop for me. I’m younger than he is, and somewhat more nimble, so I’ve taken over the skylight chore.

Our house is just one story, so it doesn’t feel terribly dangerous up there. Still, even with John holding the ladder securely, I’m very cautious as I climb. Luckily, the supports bolted to the roof for the satellite dish are very sturdy. I grasp the supports and clamber onto the roof without much trouble.

It’s an interesting feeling, being up here. I can see practically our whole acreage, and being level with the treetops of some of the smaller trees makes me feel closer to nature. But I have a job to do.

As John waits below, I remove the weights and drop them to the ground. I take note of the patches of moss that are growing between the shingles—in our rainy climate, moss accumulation can degrade the roof pretty quickly. When we finally replace our roof, we’re going to get steel roofing, but we need to save some serious money first!

I call down to John that some branches of the October Glory maple next to the house are hanging over the roof, and he passes the pruning loppers up to me. I do a little judicious pruning to keep leaves out of the gutters. Then it’s time to climb down, collect my prunings—then I see the sun has gotten low in the sky.

It must be nearly 6 pm—and it’s coop day. I designate Tuesdays and Fridays for coop cleaning…since if I just did it when I felt like it, this less-than-fun chore would not happen!

As the days shorten, the hens are turning in way earlier—so I need to hustle. The girls seem pleased to see me—not that they actually look happy or anything, but they seem to like having their humans hang out with them. I clean the coop, picking up droppings from the pen and the girls’ yard, then fill their feeder.

By now, dusk is falling. I harvest a couple of zucchinis, find three nice cukes, and pick a bowlful of any tomatoes with some color—they’ll ripen nicely inside. We haven’t had to buy any store vegetables since the asparagus came up at the end of April, which has saved lots on our grocery budget.

By now I’m getting kinda hungry. I mosey around to the woodsheds to say hi to John as he collects his tools, and admire the stacks of firewood he processed that day.

It’s getting dark fast, and I never got to all the weeding I meant to do. Still, I feel a sense of accomplishment as we troop inside, change out of our outdoor gear, and think about something easy for dinner since we’re both tired. Salmon patties, brown rice with a little butter, and sliced cucumbers with a splash of honey-mustard vinaigrette fit the bill.

The day certainly has none of the glamor and intriguing dishes found in “Star Diary,” but John and I are convinced fame and fortune has nothing on the life we love here!