Very many times over the past (many) months, I’ve started drafting blog posts in my head. (Let’s not count how long it’s been since I’ve last written one and just agree that “it’s been a while.”) I’ll get inspired by something that I want to put down into words, and then inevitably…I’ll get distracted. Life happens, errands call, and I lose the thread. It’s similar to the flurry of activity of the summer months on a homestead when the weeding and the harvesting and cooking are seemingly endless. There’s nothing bad about this, per se. It’s maybe even an embarrassment of riches that I get so caught up in the activity of the moment that I don’t have the time to reflect on it. But that means there is some relief that comes in the winter months, when the crops lay dormant and the cold air chases you inside. You start digging through the freezer for your dinner instead of walking out into the garden to make a dent in the tomatoes and herb beds. You stare at the thick blanket of snow and ice covering your gardens and remind yourself that you did, actually, grow food there last year, and you will again. But next year. In the meantime, there’s something to be gained from some rest and reflection.

I’m welcoming this time of latency. Or maybe not quite latency; but relishing in the fruits of my previous labor. Now when dinnertime gets closer and I put down the task at hand (administrative work for my day job, knitting a project as a gift, learning music for a gig, binge watching a show but-it’s-British-so-it’s-kinda-highbrow), preparing dinner is lusciously simplified. Defrost a soup and toss together a quick salad? No biggie. Bake a gluten-free pizza with some dried herbs and sauteed shrimp? You got it. The ducks are still pulling their weight and giving us 1-2 eggs a day, so we sometimes whip up a frittata for dinner, if we like (and if we find the eggs before they freeze on the snow; a fun game we’ve been playing for the past 6 weeks).

Speaking of ducks (and can I please, always, speak of ducks?), I’d love to tell you about the new two loves in my life. Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong. Back in August, we got a small batch of ducklings from a hatchery (Yes! The first time I’ve done that!), and had the thrilling and humbling experience of raising 3-day-old ducks at home. They grew, quite literally, before our eyes, and when they’re that young they don’t know to be afraid of life or humans or anything else, and willingly get scooped up in your greedy hands and fall asleep against your chest, neck, tummy, or beard (my husband’s- not mine). It’s intoxicating and wonderful.

Fast forward to 4 months later and these same ducklings are not as amenable to being held or coddled but have transitioned into being members of the flock, which is much more important. And let me just say that Louis, our one-and-only drake, is quite dashing and we’re all quite mesmerized. And Ella, always a few steps behind him, is a picture-perfect example of a Welsh Harlequin duck and makes a beautiful addition to the coop. Some real talk: we had a VERY rough time integrating the new ducklings to the existing flock. Though we followed the guidelines and waited until they were full grown and had spent many hours introducing them all through the fence, it was a loud, messy, feather-pulling, foot-stamping experience (by the ducks, not us). Not for the first time, we were grateful that we’d housed the ducks in the old garden shed, which lends plenty of space for partitions and roomy lodgings for separate broods. So the new ducks took the front half of the coop and the mean old ladies kept to the back half, where they usually reside. My husband and I wanted to make sure that the newbies got plenty of sunshine and fresh air, though, so we propped the front door of the coop open and set up a temporary fence around the front steps. We put their food and water on the top step and they’d come out for meal times or sun-bathing, and were one of the first things I’d see when I pulled into the driveway after work or running errands. Not a bad way to be greeted on the homestead.

Back to the latency, I just had the uncommon and unexpected experience of a totally work-free week. It coincided with the first week of the year (how is it 2023?), which lent itself to some time of reflection and soul-searching. For the first time in a long while, I had some space to let my thoughts play out or just to “float” and not think at all. While very different from the dogged productivity I usually engage in, this felt useful, too; like I was giving my brain the chance to recoup like it did two years ago in the treehouse.

I won’t say that I had any epiphanies, at least not like the one I had in that treehouse when I realized I could no longer live in the city but had to move to the woods and build a homestead. But I did turn certain questions over in my mind. Did I miss my previous life in the city? No. Specific people I wish I could see more, yes. But not the lifestyle of the city. In fact, I say a silent utterance of gratitude every day that my path has led me away from that place and brought me here. I know this wouldn’t be everyone’s choice, but it continues to be mine, and thankfully, my husband’s. I also asked, Have I gone too far down the path of the country mouse and want to change course to what’s more familiar? Again, no. Though I still grapple with some imposter syndrome from time to time, I’m probably more determined than ever that I want to grow more, raise more animals, and dig deeper into this new experience. And lastly, Did I feel like a failure for leaving the single-minded focus of my career behind? A more complicated answer. I think whenever one stands at a crossroads and is forced to pick one fork, it’s hard to never wonder “what if.” There *are* times when I have moments of sadness or doubt that I “quit” too soon- although the only thing that’s really changed is my location; I still audition and work as much as I did in the city. Maybe it’s the fierce drive pulsing through the city that made me feel like I was doing more than I really was; pushing harder and deeper than I am now. If I stand back and look at the facts, that’s not actually true. I think on some level I feel guilt that I’m not struggling like I used to; that I enjoy my everyday life so much AND still get to audition and work as an actor and singer. Isn’t that odd? I don’t know who decided it was nobler to suffer for the things you love (specifically, art), but I used to buy into that notion and then some. A therapist once observed of my career that it asked absolutely everything of me, and then 10% more. Now, my approach to my career feels much more like a choice, and a healthy one. I am a whole (and ever-evolving), person outside of the career and am grateful for the opportunities when they come along. So maybe my answer to the third question isn’t as complicated as I thought. My dreams have changed, and I’m grateful my circumstances allowed them to. I do still want to work as an actor and singer, but I want to do it on a short-term basis and not too far from home. This place has become my biggest dream and seeing it come to fruition really supercedes almost everything else.

When the ground hasn’t been covered by snow or ice (or mud!), here, we’ve enjoyed strolling around and making new plans. Little ones, like coming up with a new material for the garden arches. Or bigger ideas, like fencing in the new shaded vegetable garden we built at the end of the fall. It has just 2 raised beds where some garlic and shallots are currently growing, and in the summer, when it’s shaded by the leaves of the large maple tree nearby, we’ll plant spinach and arugula and maybe some herbs. I have a fantasy of herding the ducks into this enclosure for them to nibble and forage to their hearts’ content, without the risk of them scattering too far (hence, the fence). They’ve been getting more comfortable with eating out of my hand or following me around, so I think this wouldn’t be such a big ask. (Get ready, Instagram!!)

We haven’t given up on the idea of goats but are smart enough to know how ignorant we still are on the topic. So we’re starting with small upgrades to the shed where they’ll live; hanging some barn doors and creating partitions inside for sleeping and milking. Maybe in 2024 we’ll be ready for our goat kids, who I’ve already come up with some fun names for. I’m thinking Billie (Holiday. Also…Billie Goat!), and Blossom (Dearie). And since the breeder suggested we get a senior female to governess the younger kids, I thought I could break the tradition of naming our livestock after singers and instead name her Jane Eyre. (I did play that role in the musical in college, so maybe it still somehow tracks?)

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Thank you for reading, and for being supportive on this journey of mine; not only of living this new version of my life but attempting to capture it in words. There have been some of you who’ve asked over the last 8 months (there- I said it!), when I’d write again and it became that thing I’d postponed so long that I didn’t know how to find my way back in. So again, thank you for being patient and for encouraging me. It’s a beautiful life and I don’t want to forget any of it.