and we are drowning because of it.

Call it garden amnesia, farm amnesia, or anything else that provides us the excuse that we completely underestimated the amount of work necessary to keep our now thriving farm/apiary going.

It was cute this winter as I placed order after order of garden seed. Fun even. We gathered all the seed trays, soil, shiny new garden tools, collected frames of worked out comb, bee boxes, and inspection gear only to be hit like a Mac truck come spring.

We just thought we were prepared. Perhaps we were–for roughly 10 hives and a 60 square foot garden. However, this spring quickly brought in healthy swarms and splits bringing out hive count to way more than 10. Lest we forget we also added 2,880 square foot garden that is fenced in and quite beautiful.

There are elements to this organized chaos I did not factor in. Like keeping the yard mowed, the house clean (hey, garden house), working the corporate career, and just trying to be a present spouse.

Our days are packed full and look something like:

Wake up

Tend to all indoor/outdoor animals

Eat

Work the “normal” job

Maybe get essentials from the store on any given day which I will likely forget.

Come home

Change into farm clothes

Check hives

Check garden including weeding, picking, preserving, watering, etc.

Oh, look–it’s sunset already!

Oh shoot! I haven’t even thought about dinner. Will my husband throw up if I whip up yet another batch of burrito bowls!?

Lock up outdoor animals for safety from nightly predators

Finally eat something resembling a meal.

Shower

Sleep

And repeat. I don’t want to lie, here lately I have done a pitiful job keeping up with all the demands of the day. I’m too tired to keep up with some tasks while others I just feel burnt out on. Bless my husband as he gives where I take and vice versa.

That’s how we survive. We also accept the silent rhythm of our lives together and are always happy to help the other. That is a key factor to keeping this dream and goal of ours in check.

Though at times we both become so frustrated with the outcome, like bees swarming though we have split them already and veggies not producing quite like we hopes, there is still such a fire burning passion to push through the transition phases.

This new period of “HOW DO WE MAINTAIN THIS” while running around like mad men is part of the transition from quite, small country home to “Let’s turn this into something fruitful”.

Earlier when I said we are drowning, I mean literally and figuratively but somehow in a good way.

There’s always work to do but I would much prefer it over being a couch potato.

There is ample honey to harvest but there’s nothing quite like sharing with someone their first jar of honey.

At the end of the day, we are grateful for this opportunity and cannot wait to share it all with you.