Sunrise, Chores, and Family Fun on the Farm
There’s something magical about waking up on the farm before the rest of the world even thinks about rolling out of bed. The first light of sunrise peeks over the horizon, spilling soft gold across the fields, and the air carries that fresh, earthy smell you can’t bottle, no matter how many candle companies try. But before I can enjoy the view for too long, I hear the rooster remind me—in no uncertain terms—that farm life doesn’t wait for dreamers.
Chores are the heartbeat of every morning, and everyone in the family has a role to play. Boots go on, coffee gets poured, and we march outside like a ragtag team of superheroes, except instead of fighting villains, we’re tackling overflowing water troughs, hungry goats, and chickens who think they’re stand-up comedians.
The kids are in charge of the chickens, which is equal parts responsibility and slapstick comedy show. There’s always one hen who makes a break for it, sending the kids into an impromptu track meet across the yard. Their giggles carry across the morning air, louder than the rooster, louder than the donkeys braying for breakfast. Nothing says “family bonding” like three people chasing a feathered escape artist while tripping over each other’s boots.
Meanwhile, my partner heads for the goats. Goats, as anyone who’s met them knows, are professional mischief makers. One minute they’re bleating sweetly, the next they’re climbing hay bales like circus performers. Watching my partner try to scoop feed while fending off head-butts from overly enthusiastic goats is a sight that should come with popcorn.
I usually take the pigs. It’s not glamorous, but someone has to do it. They grunt and snort impatiently, convinced I’m taking too long. I always joke that pigs don’t just eat food—they inhale it like it’s their last meal. By the time their breakfast is gone, I’m covered in mud, but at least I’ve earned my farm stripes for the day.
Despite the chaos, there’s joy in every chore. The kids brag about how many eggs they collected, my partner laughs off another goat nibbling at a jacket, and I shake my head at muddy boots leaving tracks back into the kitchen. Somehow, even the messes become memories.
As the sun climbs higher, chores give way to fun. Sometimes it’s a family walk through the pasture, pointing out how much the calves have grown. Other times it’s a goofy competition—who can stack hay bales the fastest, or who can mimic the donkeys’ bray most accurately. (Spoiler: the donkeys always win.)
By the time evening rolls around, we’re tired, a little sore, and often dirtier than we’d like to admit. But when we sit together on the porch, watching the sun melt into the horizon, all the hard work feels worth it. The kids trade stories about their chicken chases, we laugh about the goats’ antics, and even the pigs grunt softly in the background, like they’re part of the conversation.
Sunrise to sunset, chores to laughter, farm life weaves us closer together. It’s not always picture-perfect—there are muddy boots, stubborn animals, and mornings when we’d all rather sleep in. But hidden in the hard work is something beautiful: the reminder that family fun doesn’t just happen on vacation. Sometimes, it happens right here, in the middle of chores, on a farm that never stops singing its own lively song.
