A Real Day in the Life of Our Homestead
When people picture life on a homestead, they often imagine peaceful mornings, baskets overflowing with fresh vegetables, warm bread cooling on the counter, and happy animals grazing in green pastures.
Those moments absolutely exist, and yes, the mornings around here ARE special.
But they aren’t the whole story.
Most days on our homestead aren’t what I’d call “glamorous.” They’re made up of ordinary routines, small jobs that need doing, and lots of moments that would probably seem unremarkable to anyone else.
But I love the mundane days. Mundane days are my absolute favorite days. And homesteads are typically very mundane.
I think that’s my favorite part.
So today, I thought I’d share what a fairly typical day looks like for our family here at Quiet Life Farm.
The Morning Starts Outside
Before much else happens, the animals are waiting.
No matter how busy the day may become, they still need breakfast, and they still need fresh water.
Troughs are filled.
Pigs are fed.
Chickens and ducks need their feed, too.
If anyone’s in milk (right now our cows are pregnant, but currently nobody is in milk), milking happens, too.
Everyone gets a quick health check as we make our rounds.
It’s become such a familiar rhythm that I hardly think about it anymore.
Those moments outside, before the rest of the day begins, are often some of my favorites.
The world feels peaceful.
The air is cool.
The goats are always eager to see what we’re bringing.
The pigs are busy wondering whether they can convince us they need just a little more feed.
Our children are always outside with us, and are a big help during the morning chores.
Everyone knows who has what job.
And everyone gets the job done.
Breakfast and Homeschool
Once the animals are cared for, we head back inside.
Breakfast is usually something simple.
Usually oatmeal, fruit, and eggs.
Nothing fancy.
My husband makes pancakes on the weekends. He makes the best pancakes. And the best coffee.
Just food that helps everyone start the day well.
My husband and I always drink our coffee together. The younger children always bring their school readers over to the couch with us and snuggle up to do their reading with us while we have our coffee.
After breakfast, we settle into our music and homeschool lessons.
Piano and violins are practiced. It’s squeaky noisy over here.
Some days everything goes exactly as planned.
Other days someone asks an interesting question or discovers an interesting bug outside, and suddenly school has taken an unexpected turn.
There are lots of books. Too many books? Is that possible? Books everywhere. I have no self control bringing home new books. We had to build a literal detached library from our house.
There’s lots of reading.
I’ve learned not to hold too tightly to the schedule. Which can be hard for me, because I love lists and knowing exactly where we are and what we’re supposed to be doing.
But some of our best learning happens when we’re willing to follow curiosity.
Work Happens Between Life
(click here if you want to see my teddy bear sewing pattern!)
One thing that’s surprised me about working from home is that work doesn’t always happen in long, uninterrupted stretches.
Instead, it fits between the rest of life.
I might spend an hour drafting a new sewing pattern in Adobe while simultaneously teaching someone a math lesson.
Then go help with a sewing project while working on my own.
Answer a few emails.
Fold a load of laundry.
Photograph a new sewing pattern.
Dinner prep.
Scrub a toilet.
Record part of a YouTube video.
Then head back outside because someone remembered we needed to move a cattle panel to a different spot.
It’s rarely one thing at a time.
And somehow, it all gets done.
Creating Is Part of Everyday Life
Most days you’ll find some sort of project happening.
Maybe I’m sewing a new teddy bear.
Knitting a shawl from our sheep’s wool.
Testing a new pattern.
Or experimenting with a recipe I hope to share on the blog.
The projects aren’t separate from our family life.
They’re woven into it.
The toys I design are always played with before they’re ever listed in the shop.
The recipes become dinner.
The garden provides ingredients.
The animals even inspire new ideas. (after all, this is Quiet Life Farm)
Everything seems connected.
The Garden Is Always Calling
During the growing season, there’s always something waiting in the garden.
Weeding.
Watering.
Harvesting.
Checking on tomatoes that seem to ripen overnight.
Picking beans before they grow too large.
Figuring out what’s the deal with the fungus on my cucumber leaves.
It’s never truly finished.
And I don’t think it’s supposed to be.
The garden teaches us to work with the seasons instead of against them.
Every day brings a small task, and over time those small tasks become fresh food on the dinner table.
And food stored up in the pantry and freezer.
And the rest that I’m too tired to preserve or too tired of eating is shared with friends.
Afternoons Have Their Own Rhythm
As the day rolls into nap time, the little ones are tucked into bed.
The older children often disappear into imaginative play.
Sometimes with handmade toys.
Sometimes outdoors.
Sometimes in books.
Sometimes building forts or creating elaborate stories that are fully and creatively narrated.
These are the moments I try not to interrupt.
Childhood passes quickly.
I’d rather preserve it than schedule every minute of it.
Naptime is their time to rest and play, and it’s my “crunch time” for work.
Evening Chores
Before the day ends, it’s time to head outside again.
The animals need one more check.
Troughs are topped off as needed.
Pigs are fed again.
Everyone is accounted for.
Even when it rains or snows or is so cold that you can’t feel your toes.
Everything is beautiful outside. It’s warm and stale and the earth is ready to be tucked into bed.
It’s difficult to explain unless you’ve experienced it yourself.
Everything feels just a little quieter.
A little slower.
It’s Not Always Picture Perfect
Of course, there is also the giant pile of muddy shoes on the front porch. (a lot of children live here, too)
Laundry waiting to be put away.
Your garden might be beautiful but your landscaping around your house is a lost cause because you want your chickens to be able to free range.
Unexpected repairs. You’re more used to the missing tile on your shower than you were when it was still connected to the wall because you’re putting your time into other repairs around the homestead rather than a “vanity” one inside that only you see anyway.
Animals that escape when they shouldn’t. (it was the goats. it’s always the goats.)
Recipes that don’t turn out quite the way I hoped. (I can never cook well when I’m tired)
Projects that take twice as long as expected. (isn’t that every project?)
Life on a homestead isn’t perfect.
Neither are we.
But perfection was never really the goal anyway.
The Ordinary Is the Best Part
When I look back on our days, I rarely remember the big accomplishments.
Instead, I remember the ordinary moments.
A child proudly carrying a basket of tomatoes.
Warm mason jars of pickles cooling from the canner.
Watching sheep graze while knitting with yarn spun from their wool.
Reading together on the porch.
The joy that comes from working together as a family.
These are the moments that have become the rhythm of our lives.
They’re easy to overlook while they’re happening.
But together, they’ve created the kind of home we’ve always hoped to build.
Final Thoughts
People sometimes ask what a typical day on our homestead looks like.
The truth is, there really isn’t one.
The seasons change. Winter will never look like summer.
The garden changes. Sometimes it’s here, sometimes it’s just dirt.
The animals keep us guessing. And if you have livestock, you have deadstock.
The children grow. I’ve loved the baby stage just as much as the big kid stage.
Every day looks a little different.
But underneath all of those changes is something steady.
We wake up.
We care for the things entrusted to us. (thank you, Lord)
We work hard and make things with our hands.
We’re always learning.
We share our meals around the table.
We end the day grateful for another mundane day.
And perhaps that’s what I’ve come to love most about homesteading.
Not that every day is exciting.
But that even the ordinary days are filled with purpose.
