Winter Break: Farming in Daylight Again

Progress does not always look big, but it feels different when the sun is still up.

This time of year is really difficult for our farm, because our winters offer so little daylight compared to darkness. I am a teacher at a local high school, and after teaching all day it feels like a race against the setting sun to get anything done around the farm.

I often joke with Tovia, my husband, that I need a set of powerful, rechargeable floodlights to get everything done in a day. Winter break is one of the moments during the school year where I can dedicate myself to this farm and the animals on it. During this time, it means working with cold hands and wet feet. My toddler interrupts me frequently while “helping,” and while that all leads to progress feeling slow, it is deeply satisfying and recharges my heart.

When Daylight Becomes a Gift

Homesteading as a teacher has natural challenges. This time of year allows me to work alongside the sun, rather than trying to farm after dark. The added daylight allows me to work safer and provides me with more energy between sun up and sun down.

As a teacher at a local high school, it is incredible just how impactful the fatigue can be from all the decisions a teacher’s brain makes on any given day. The real struggle comes when more decisions need to be made and the last remaining hour of daylight is slipping away. During the school year, the farm exists in the margins: early in the morning, late in the evening, and on the weekends. For me, winter break does not add hours, but it realigns them. For the first time in a long time, I can actually focus on the projects that need my attention and daylight to perform. I can thoughtfully plan my time rather than make reactive fixes, and I get to spend time working with my toddler rather than around her bedtime.

For these few short weeks, the farm stops being something I have to squeeze into my day and instead becomes the main focus of my life.

A Toddler on the Homestead

Homesteading with a toddler is an incredible experience. It can be hard to coordinate homestead needs with toddler needs, and when she “helps” I usually end up much less productive. But in those moments, my life feels immensely richer because she is there.

For her, “helping” looks a little different. When I spread mulch in the garden, she kicks the piles around for me. When I carefully collect eggs, she carries one in her tiny hands back to the house. When she sees a pothole, she fills it in with nearby rocks, creating a new pothole in the process.

This season of my life has taught me patience and that sometimes there are more important things than efficiency. In those moments, when a simple task does take a lot longer than usual and we are not getting a lot done, I choose presence over productivity.

At two-and-a-half, I know that she carefully watches every move we make. Allowing her to help me however she can builds the foundations of love and connection that can only grow as she gets older. Hurrying her along will steal the joy of farming before it even has a chance to grow. Providing her with a space to explore this life means that maybe I can inspire her to one day live life a little slower and a little simpler, too.

Homesteading with a toddler may not make my job easy or efficient, but it makes those everyday tasks so much richer.

Finishing the Primary Garden

This break from our normal routine allowed us to finally finish the primary garden. Exactly one year after we really started to get serious about it, we laid the last pathway of bark in the primary garden. It still has a few things to work out, but this step in the project felt so good to finally complete. We have a couple of things coming next this winter in preparation before the late winter cool season crops go in. But finishing this huge step refreshed my spirit and reminded me that it is all coming together, slowly.

Our toddler helped us spread three cubic yards of bark in the garden, ensuring that very determined weeds remain under control.

This garden has been a work in progress with intention for the last year. In that year, we have established 400 square feet of active, working garden beds, with another 550 square feet to go. What that means after so many seasons of trial and failure is that we are constantly, slowly moving in the right direction. So I will sip coffee, sit on the front porch steps, and marvel at my garden that is finished enough for this season.

First Eggs of the Season

There was a morning about a week before winter break started that we got our first chicken egg from our newly established heritage flock. That egg was impossibly tiny, but the surprise in finding it quickly made way to a flood of gratitude. Everyone always says that chickens stop laying in winter, and I figured my flock, hatched mid-July, would not start laying eggs until the spring. But here we are, with the first egg coming a few days before the first day of winter.

Since that moment, many of our chickens have begun laying. Of the twelve hens, we estimate that five or six of them have started laying. Luckily for us, one hen has gone broody. While many people will express a deep loathing for a broody hen, we are so grateful to have at least one hen willing to sit on a clutch of eggs. There was a sigh of relief that echoed around our farm when we found our brooder box full of eggs, with a chunky girl sitting on top of them.

These eggs, and our broody hen, remind us that life continues to grow and thrive on our farm, even in this season traditionally thought of as restful or still.

The Truth Behind What Winter Break Really Gives Me

The truth of it is that these short breaks throughout the school year do not just give me more hours, but better ones. I gain the ability to work slowly and with intention, to include my daughter in a way that has meaningful, lasting impact for her, and a chance to really notice what is going on with our forest.

This time has fueled me with the headspace to return to the classroom and my daily mom life, ready to face the rest of winter in the margins. The season of seed starting is approaching, but these moments allow me to feel like I can meet those needs through the work I am able to do now.

This broody buff Orpington is aggressively protecting her large collection of eggs.

Closing Reflection

Winter break is a reminder of what is possible when life rhythms align, even if only briefly. Real homesteading is not about perfect days when the sun warms your skin, but instead about showing up when the opportunity exists.