Preparing for winter is ordinary, unglamorous work. Most of it, I think, is planning ahead and anticipating whatever Mother Nature might throw at us.

At the moment, I’ve put up two rows of four-strand electric fence. One row is to prevent the rascals from rubbing against the fence and bowing it out, the other row is to prevent them from going into the wider area near the barn.

It’s hard to believe when I first got goats that area was impenetrable with blackberry, small maple trees and other various edibles the goats loved. At the time, it was Iris and Alex. It took six months for them to eat it down.

This area is the back right quarter of the property and there’s been a bag of pasture mix sitting in the kitchen since late spring waiting to be spread there. All I’m waiting for is rain.

Being on an island off a main island means transporting hay is listed as Dangerous Goods on our local ferry and the restrictions on private vehicles mean we can only carry five bales at a time. About now I start to bring over bales of hay almost each time I go off-island. That way I know if it rains for weeks on end, or, heaven forbid, it snows and gets really cold and icy, I don’t need to worry about feed as it’s safely tucked away. It’s the end of October and I have five bales, so getting more hay is a priority.

I’ll pick up shavings and at least four bags of duck pellets, several bags of alfalfa pellets and dog and cat food while I’m at it — just to be on the safe side.

Other chores include things like draining water from the IBC totes so they are less likely to freeze, making sure there aren’t holes in the tarps covering the wood piles, keeping the wood box filled, coiling and putting away all but one short hose, and generally trying to tidy up the property.

Is there fuel for the generator? Rest assured, once those windy west coast storms start blowing in, the power is destined to go out. The generator will keep things in the freezer(s) in the barn cold and can also be connected to the house in a pinch.

I can’t prepare for everything, but experience has taught me to minimize surprises. When water lines freeze and the power goes out, having water stored and ready makes a world of difference. Are there enough buckets to rotate for the goats and ducks as the water freezes throughout the day? And if it snows, how is the tarp covering the duck shelter holding up?

Firewood. A good supply of dry firewood is essential. When the power goes out, the house gets cold surprisingly quickly, but a wood fire keeps things snug and cozy while the weather does its worst outside. The bonus to an airtight fireplace is that I can cook on it as well. I’ve done so many a time when the world focuses inward on the tasks of daily living on a small farm.

Shelter, water, feed. Those are the things that matter for all of us here at Point 6 Acre. If we have those, we can weather just about anything.

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Brin writes about the quieter lessons of small farm life – ducks in the morning, goats in the barn, and the slow work of tending a small piece of land. Between animal chores, soap making, and reflexology work, she reflects on what it means to live well, live simply, and discover what “enough” really looks like.

Crisp fall mornings lead to winter ones when often the water is frozen, and drizzly spring evenings slide into long hot summer days when the box fan works overtime. No matter what is going on in the world around them, the animals pull me outside even when I’m tired.

I smile when I think about the animals here at Point 6 Acre. This year had some angsty moments, but even so, woven into our daily routines were great joy and contentment.

Take Nyx the Cayuga duck for example. Three months of evening foot soaks to rid her bumblefoot. During that time we got to know each other in a way which was lovely. Toward the end it was clear both she and I were getting pretty fed up with the Epsom salts soaks. While soaking in the tub as her strength returned, she started to pinch my left hand with her bill. I truly think she enjoyed it as she’d waggle her butt then chomp down on the webbing between my thumb and first finger. As she got stronger, the pinching increased as well! It made the funniest sound and I in turn would chuckle. We’d developed a form of communicating over the months and it was lovely to know that despite what she’d gone through, she could see a way to make a joke of it with me!

In the summer on those incredibly hot days, I’d spray the ducks with the hose. They’d puff their chests out, open their bills and try to catch the water droplets or they’d scuttle closer to have the stream pointed directly at their chest! It made the funniest muffled drumming sound — and they loved it!

In winter they’ll delight in the sloppy puddles or leave prehistoric footprints in the snow.

The seasonal ponds fill for a short time and that’s when the ducks really spread their wings – literally! They charge out of their enclosure dashing as fast as their legs will carry them to the water where they plunge in with undeniable enthusiasm!

Endless routling and rummaging for tasty snacks or creating a ruckus waiting to be let out of their enclosure — how can I not smile and love their antics?!

Then there are the goats — oh my!

Did you know there is a whole orchestra inside a goat? They fart, belch, groan, and their rumen rumbles and gurgles. I had no idea their digestive systems were so noisy!

They can be soft and tender, wanting pats and skritches and stretch and turn so you get the exact spot for them. And they can be cheeky and pushy! Mostly, they quietly follow behind me when I’m heading outside and wait for me to lower some branches from the apple tree.


Kid zoomies!

Milk guzzlers with frothy milky mustashios.

The first time the Boys regurgitated, their little cheeks puffed out, and the expressions on their faces were priceless — so darn adorable!

The contentment of leaning against her side while I milk her. The sound of milk hitting the inside of the bucket and her eating her grain.

Their endless playful side which I particularly notice when it comes to cleaning the barn! Inevitably the wheelbarrow gets tipped over at least once. And like the milk, there’s no point crying over it, so might as well laugh and get on with it.

Never a dull moment. There’s always something going on or somewhere to look that brings a smile to my face and makes me grateful I live where I do and have this tiny patch of land I call home.

Point 6 Acre. It’s enough.

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Brin writes about the quieter lessons of small farm life – ducks in the morning, goats in the barn, and the slow work of tending a small piece of land. Between animal chores, soap making, and reflexology work, she reflects on what it means to live well, live simply, and discover what “enough” really looks like.