Chore Therapy

"Work is love made visible."

~Khalil Gibran

The author hard at work planting rows of chard, kale, and broccoli
Farmer Nic (2018)

Why would someone work so hard for so little for so long?

It's a question I am often asked—not out of malice, but rather out of simple curiosity—when I tell them I own a farm.

It doesn't help if I insist that it's really fun or if I try to downplay the workload. Everyone knows that farming is tough. Instead, I usually agree that it's hard work, and then I say that it's also a matter of mindset.

I then go on to say something like, Sure, everyone knows the good stuff of a farming lifestyle (e.g., fresh food and fuzzy animals), but rarely does anyone discuss the less glamorous parts. To get all of that good stuff, there is groundwork to be laid, and there is constant upkeep to be done. Once I came to terms with what I would have to do if this was the life I chose to live, I discovered something else, too. There is therapy to be found amidst the monotony, lessons to be learned in the drudgery inherent in farming. And universally, finding joy in the grind is the key to happiness, whether you work on a farm, in an office, on a fishing boat, or driving a truck.

The following are just three of the chores that I get more out of than just a checked-off to-do list.

Washing Eggs: Work for What You Want

Freshly washed eggs
Farmer Hannah (2018)

The chickens and quail lay eggs every day, and we collect them every day. We track which day they were laid on the Julian calendar and mark the expiration dates on the boxes before bringing them to be sold at our local natural food store. It's monotonous, to say the least, washing egg after egg. I can't go quickly or I risk dropping it. And if I don't keep my long-term game plan in mind, then the thought of how little money I'm making each minute starts to overwhelm me. Each egg is worth $0.42. But I know that if I wash twelve of them, then I will make $5. And if I wash 5 dozen, then I will make $25. Wash 10 dozen, and I'll make $50. Still, that's a lot of eggs in my future if I want to pay the mortgage. Looking at the big picture and not getting lost in each egg, while at the same time paying attention enough to each egg so as not to crack it, is an interesting headspace to be in. It's a matter of taking it one egg at a time, knowing that each one is a brick laid in the farm's foundation.

Weeding: Postponing Gratification

The author fastidiously weeding the sunflowers
Farmer Nic (2018)

After a few hours, my back is begging for mercy the same as anyone. But at it's core, if I just focus on the task at hand, weeding is a loving process in which I am playing a key role: I am helping our vegetables and flowers reach their full potential by making available to them all the possible space, nutrients, and water from which they can benefit. Each time I take away a competing clump of crabgrass or an invading blackberry vine, I imagine the little broccoli heaving a sigh of relief as they stretch out their roots. Instead of focusing on the dirt stains on my clothes, the grit under my nails, and the seemingly never-ending rows full of these chlorophyll invaders, I turn my thoughts to all that will happen because of my efforts. Seeds will be planted, food grown, plates filled. Clearing the soil is like creating a canvas upon which will be painted a cornucopia of nutritious vegetables in just a few weeks. And the icing on the cake is feeding all of the weeds to our pigs!

Mucking: Basics Matter

A freshly mucked quail hutch
Farmer Hannah (2018)

Perhaps the least desired chore on the farm just happens to be my favorite: mucking. Poop jokes aside, I feel like I've really done a good day's work when I've scraped every surface clean of Nature's MiracleGro. Now don't get me wrong, I can't stand the smell nor the texture of the stuff (thank Science for gloves). But while I muck, I hold the image of a poop-free floor in my mind and the knowledge that our chickens and quail will soon be laying eggs in fluffy fresh hay again. Unbeatable is the satisfaction I have knowing the exact condition of my birds' living quarters. Farmer Nic teases me when I get really detailed…"it'll all be back tomorrow, you know"…but I take pleasure knowing that I make it sparkle before it gets wrecked again. It rarely takes more than a couple of hours to muck each coop (even less for the quail), and I think it does just as much good for me as it does for the birds. Perhaps, while I am scouring poop from the perches, the crap in my mind is cleared out simultaneously...

If it isn't obvious already, the farming lifestyle sings to my heart. I have literally jumped for joy while looking around, knowing that I have the privilege of being here and tending to these lives that depend on me. Sure, it's messy, inconvenient, unpredictable, and gut-wrenching. But it's also grounding, entertaining, delicious, and healing. It just plain feels good to me. And for that, the cost/benefit analysis of sticking my hands in godforsaken places while also gleaning wisdom from those same places always weighs out in my mind in favor of the farm.

The very first broccoli planted on the farm
Farmer Hannah (2018)