Then again, if farming has taught me anything over the years, it’s that the best stories usually begin when the plans change.
This past week was a reminder that life on Briden Farm isn’t measured only by the work we accomplish, but by the unexpected moments that shape the days in between.
The week began with the usual rhythm of summer. The sheep continued their rotational grazing, moving onto fresh pasture while leaving behind paddocks that will now have weeks to recover. Every move reminds me why rotational grazing works so well. The animals eagerly anticipate each new section of grass, while the land is given the opportunity to rest, regrow, and become even healthier for the next visit.
The goats, rabbits, pigs, poultry, and all the other farm residents continued to keep me busy from morning until evening. Water buckets needed filling, fences needed trimming, feed had to be mixed, and there never seems to be a shortage of little jobs waiting around every corner.
One project weighed more heavily on my mind than any other.
The hay.
Several large round bales were still sitting outside, and although they were holding up well, every passing day made me increasingly aware that they belonged under cover before the weather decided otherwise. I spent more than a little time wondering how I was going to move six and seven hundred pound bales by myself.
Then came one of those conversations that quietly changes everything.
Someone suggested I go back to the old ways.
That simple comment stayed with me.
Instead of trying to solve the problem with more equipment, perhaps the answer was simply another pair of hands.
Or two.
On Sunday, Mary and Lynn came to help.
Together we rolled, pushed, steadied, tipped, and repositioned every remaining bale beneath the carport. There wasn’t any heavy machinery involved—just a little planning, some determination, and a willingness to work together.
The funny part?
I began the afternoon convinced I was at least two pallets short.
By the time we finished, I somehow had three pallets left over.
After giving it some thought, I suspect the answer wasn’t magic after all. A few boards, a handful of bricks, and better spacing between the bales meant I simply didn’t need as many pallets as I first believed.
Sometimes the solution isn’t having more.
Sometimes it’s making better use of what you already have.
Not every moment this week was as encouraging.
One afternoon I heard what can only be described as a sickening thud.
Roscoe had been struck by one of the heavy hay bales while helping—or at least supervising.
For a few frightening moments I wasn’t sure how badly he had been hurt.
Roscoe is more than a farm dog.
He’s My Son!
Thankfully, after a careful examination and a long, restful night, he began showing encouraging signs of improvement. He’s still sore and walking with a limp, but each day seems a little better than the last. Anyone who has ever loved a good dog will understand the relief that comes with seeing those bright eyes, a cold wet nose, and that quiet determination to carry on.
The week also brought a reminder that learning never really stops.
While preparing supper on Sunday, I discovered that what I thought was an ordinary roast was actually the second half of a crown of lamb. Fortunately, slow cooking proved very forgiving.
Prepared with tea, garlic, onion powder, rosemary, oregano oil, salt, and a touch of liquid smoke, it became one of those simple meals that reminds you good food doesn’t need to be complicated.
Over the years I’ve developed my own approach to cooking. Proper food handling and proper cooking methods always come first—they’re the foundation of safe cooking. Beyond that, I enjoy choosing ingredients that not only complement one another in flavour but also have long histories of supporting food preservation. Every little bit helps, and the results are usually well worth the effort.
As if farm life wasn’t enough to keep things interesting, technology decided it wanted some attention as well.
After updating my credit card information with the hosting company, both Briden Farm and Country Air Radio decided to greet visitors with nothing more than a white screen. Support has been contacted, and hopefully by the time many of you read this, everything will once again be running smoothly.
Modern farming, it seems, requires as much troubleshooting on the computer as it does in the pasture.
Looking back over the week, one lesson stands out above all the rest.
Whether it was moving hay, caring for Roscoe, preparing supper, or dealing with unexpected technical problems, the answer was rarely found in working harder.
More often, it came through patience.
Through experience.
Through another perspective.
Or simply through another pair of willing hands.
That’s one of the many things I love about rural life.
People still show up.
Neighbours still help.
Old ideas still work.
And even after a week filled with heavy loads—both literal and figurative—I find myself ending it with a grateful heart.
From all of us here at Briden Farm, thank you for following along.
Until next week…
Brian Hurlburt
Briden Farm 🌾🐑🐐🐖🐇🐓🐕
