A Different Kind of Enough

Sometimes enough is well and truly enough.

In this context, I’m talking about the ducks.

I love them dearly, but really? Enough already! It’s like someone held up a sign that read: 

Auditions for Lame Ducks — Enter Here. 
Please Wait Your Turn.

The latest to emerge from the duck house limping is the oldest girl. I wonder if, in their morning rush to get outside, they step on one another? Whatever the cause, they go into the duck house perfectly fine and come out the next morning limping. What’s up — or, in this case, down — with that? 

When I consider how many years I’ve had the ducks, I’ve been surprisingly lucky. It is understandable to lose birds now and then to predators, or the need to re-home an aggressive drake, and the only other case of bumblefoot I experienced was years ago with one of the chickens. 

It seems 2026, at least thus far, is the year for animal health issues. It’s certainly keeping this farmer busy.

Moments like this make me appreciate how much responsibility comes with caring for animals, whether there are a few or a few hundred. I truly admire those who manage larger farms and animals.

Between the ducks taking turns going lame and Willow with her challenging labour and return to health, I admit I feel exhausted. 

Now, more than ever, I take my own advice: sustainability for the human. To care for the lame ducks, I also have to care for myself.

Blog posts and YouTube videos often paint rosy pictures of life on a farm — no matter the size. They can make life seem easier than it actually is. It is understandable to want to share the fun images and not want to turn people off with the realities of sick or aging animals —but that’s all part of being a steward, of managing livestock and poultry.

We are all of us, living creatures. We are not immune to injury or down days. 

Even in the midst of this wave of lame ducks and difficult goat births, I witness love, joy, and a wonderful sense of humour that lifts me up every day. 

Some days enough really is enough. Then a duck starts wagging her tail because she’s feeling better, or The Boys race past at full speed while Dawg looks on adoringly. Somehow the day feels lighter.

Perhaps that’s another kind of enough.

Warmly,

Brin



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.

Getting Ready for Market: Packing Goat Milk Soap

When people visit the farmers’ market, they see the soap all set up on the table, ready for them to choose a bar or two.

What they don’t see is the preparation that happens beforehand.

During the week leading up to the Saturday market, I check what sold the previous week, plane and tidy bars if needed, wrap and label new soap, count inventory, and pack everything into totes ready for an early start on Saturday morning. It’s a quiet routine that has become part of the weekly rhythm.

This week’s video offers a behind-the-scenes look at that preparation and the small jobs that help a market day come together.

Watch the video here: YouTube link

Saturday market is always a delight—a constant parade of people, delicious aromas from neighbouring vendors, dogs hoping for a pat, and the pleasure of welcoming both returning and new customers to our little soap table.

From Goats To Soap: Why We Make What We Sell

Small farms rarely survive on a single product alone.

Over time, we’ve learned that diversification matters — and one of the ways we support the farm is by turning excess goat milk into soap. 

We always knew we wanted goats but we had to wait for the right time. The infrastructure needed to be in place, and we definitely needed to educate ourselves properly on goat husbandry before bringing them here. We also wanted to make sure we had a plan for what to do with all the goat milk. 

The beauty of goat milk is its versatility. It is both consumable as an edible product and can be made into a storable, long-lasting bar of luxurious soap.

Here in British Columbia, well, Canada actually, it is illegal to sell raw goat milk, or any dairy products unless you own a licensed dairy. That left us with few options. We knew we’d consume milk, home-made yoghurt, soft and hard cheeses, but when a dairy breed of goat, in our case, La Mancha, is in milk, it’s still litres of milk a day. We chose this breed for their consistent dairy production and their rich, creamy milk. Perfect for the foods we wanted to make and for producing nutrient-rich organic goat milk soap.

Organic. Sustainable. Ethically sourced. We had a list of requirements for the raw ingredients we wanted to include in our goat milk soap. 

After considerable research, we sourced organic olive oil, coconut oil, sweet almond oil, and sustainable, traceable, ethically sourced palm oil. Combined with rich goat milk, these ingredients became the foundation of our cold-processed soaps.

Important to our ethos is the animals must be able to offer something that helps sustain their presence on the property. In the case of the ducks, it’s eggs. For the goats, it’s their milk. 

Their contribution to the farm helps support feed/vet/infrastructure costs, which in turn keeps them healthy. This creates a sustainable loop.

We admit there have been times, last year for example, when we had two goats in milk at the same time. There was an abundance of delicious milk! What to do with it all? We froze the milk of course! Frozen in the perfect amount for a batch of soap, we were able to reduce waste and preserve value.

Here at Point 6 Acre, our small batch, cold-processed soap takes four weeks to cure. We label our soaps with recycled paper, and from mid-May until September long weekend, enjoy the camaraderie of selling the bars at the local markets. 

Over time, we’ve refined our systems and truly believe our soap making emerged naturally from keeping dairy goats. It’s a lovely by-product.

On a small piece of land, very little exists in isolation. The goats support the soap, the soap supports the farm, and the farm continues to evolve season by season.

Warmly,

Brin

I Almost Moved It

On June 19th, I was seriously considering digging up this little Li jujube. It had struggled for years and seemed determined to remain a tiny stick.

Instead, I gave it a little water, cleared away some competition, and decided to leave it alone.

Today, just over a month later, I took another photograph.

Sometimes, the best thing a gardener can do isn’t transplant, fertilize, or prune.

Sometimes… it’s simply to notice. And then wait.

This little tree reminded me that patience can be just as important as action.