I’m not in the business of guarantees. Life is messy and seasons are unpredictable — trust me, I farm. But here’s what I know in my bones: when you spend time in nature, it steadies you. It clears the noise. It brings you back to who you are.
The farm looked a little gloomy today — grey skies sagging low, feeling very November like. It started to rain hard..the kind of rain that feels cold and seeps through your jacket and into your bones and whispers, “winter is coming”
And there I was, soaking wet feet - should have worn boots, rain dripping from my toque, fork in hand, spreading straw across the bed shaking out one forkful after another.
Not glamorous work.
Definitely not Insta-pretty.
Just me, the rain, and the quiet rhythm of tucking the garden in for the season.
Because mulching isn’t simply “covering the ground.”
It’s a gesture of care, working in step with nature. Being a steward of the land.
A way of tending to the soil — the very thing everything here depends on — so it can rest, restore, and be ready to wake up again come spring.
Straw does so much quiet good:
✨ protects the soil from erosion
✨ slows down weed pressure
✨ keeps moisture in
✨ and, in time, gives back organic matter
A simple blanket. A big job.
And somewhere between the gloomy skies and the driving rain I was reminded:
Even in the quiet season, the farm is never truly still.
There’s a slow pulse beneath everything — preparing, restoring, gathering strength.
Maybe we’re the same.
Maybe this season isn’t only for racing to wrap up to-dos before winter hits.
Maybe it’s also an invitation to rest with intention.
To let things settle.
To layer care and patience over our tired parts so they can return renewed.
If you’re prepping your garden beds too, consider this your gentle nudge — give them a little comfort before winter settles in.
They’ve worked hard for you.
And the way we care for the soil now shapes everything that blooms later.
Here’s to slow work, soggy feet, and believing in what’s growing quietly beneath the surface — even when we can’t see it yet.