Redisovering Myself: The start of a sudden Retirement

Tag: food

  • 🐔 Why Are Retirees So Obsessed with Sourdough, Gardening, and Chickens?

    A Soft Reflection on Time, Peace, and the Unexpected Joys of Slowness

    After decades of alarms, meetings, deadlines, and responsibilities, something curious happens when we finally step off the treadmill:
    We pause.
    We exhale.
    We look around… and start thinking very seriously about starter dough.

    Time off — especially the kind that comes with retirement — invites reflection. It’s like waking up in a quiet house after years of background noise. At first, the silence feels strange. Then it becomes sacred.

    And in that stillness, a surprising craving bubbles up.
    Not for action or output.
    But for… simple things.

    Bread.
    Seeds.
    Feathered friends that cluck and wander and don’t expect you to join Zoom.

    The Great Retiree Plot Twist: From Boardrooms to Backyard Chickens

    You may have noticed this shift. Maybe you’re feeling it too.

    Suddenly, people who once ran teams and managed schedules are:

    • Watching sourdough rise like it’s a TED Talk.
    • Naming their tomato plants.
    • Talking about “the girls” in the coop like they’re coworkers on break.

    Is it a little funny? Yes.
    Is it also incredibly profound? Also yes.

    Here’s why we think retirees are being pulled toward gardening, baking, and backyard livestock:

    🌱 1. It’s Grounding (Literally)

    Gardening puts your hands in the earth and your mind in the moment.
    After years of screens, speed, and synthetic everything, we crave the real. Dirt under our nails. Sunshine on our necks. The satisfaction of a sprout.

    🍞 2. It’s Slow — and That Feels Right

    Sourdough doesn’t care about your calendar.
    It rises when it rises.
    It teaches patience, presence, and pleasure in process — things retirement finally gives us space to enjoy.

    Plus, feeding a starter is weirdly emotional. Don’t ask me why.

    🐓 3. Chickens Are Surprisingly Therapeutic

    Yes, chickens.
    They’re quirky, busy, and oddly calming. Watching them peck around is the equivalent of nature’s white noise machine.
    Plus, eggs. Beautiful, pastel, free-range eggs.

    It’s like having a low-stakes hobby that produces breakfast.

    💚 4. These Hobbies Reclaim Time as a Gift

    In the workforce, time was always managed, budgeted, or fought against.
    Now? Time can stretch. Breathe. Bloom.

    These peaceful rituals aren’t just pastimes — they’re personal ceremonies. They whisper, “You’ve earned this.”

    So No, You’re Not Losing It

    If you’ve felt the mysterious urge to:

    • Compost like it’s your new religion
    • Start an herb garden in your kitchen
    • Learn how to make bone broth
    • Buy chickens and name them after old coworkers…

    You are not alone.
    You’re just in your next beautiful, slower chapter.

    Final Thought

    Whether or not you bake the bread, plant the seeds, or raise the hens, the message is the same:

    You get to live gently now.
    You get to love your days without a deadline.
    You get to trade pressure for presence.

    So if the sourdough calls… answer it.

    It’s probably delicious.

  • The Art of Doing Nothing (And Why It’s Harder Than It Sounds)

    Retirement gave me the gift of time.
    Then time asked, “Now what?”

    I used to dream about this—
    No alarm clocks.
    No email chains titled “quick follow-up” that were never quick and always followed by five more emails.
    I imagined slow coffee, birdsong, and alphabetizing the spice rack just because I could. I thought I’d become one of those serene, productive retirees who start the day with yoga and end it with gratitude journaling.

    Instead, I became someone who spends an hour Googling “how to keep chickens cool in summer” and then forgets what day it is.

    The Myth of the Unstructured Day

    Retirees love to say, “I’m busier than ever!”
    And sure—we are. But it’s a weird kind of busy.
    Not “back-to-back meetings” busy.
    More like “stood in the kitchen for 45 minutes trying to decide what to eat, didn’t eat, and then remembered I already had lunch” busy.

    I wake up with a wide-open day, full of potential… and then spend it debating whether to:

    • Clean out a drawer
    • Re-pot a plant
    • Start a new novel
    • Or finally learn what that blinking light on the dishwasher means

    Spoiler: I do none of those things.
    I end up at the hen house with the chickens, trying to convince them to stay in the shade like it’s a TED Talk on “Shade Management for Overheated Hens.”

    Why Blank Space Is Harder Than It Looks

    For most of our lives, we’ve lived by the clock.
    Bell schedules, shift changes, deadlines, dinner at 6.
    Now? The only thing on my calendar is “possibly nap” and “definitely coffee.”

    My most consistent daily meeting? A judgmental dog.
    He sits beside me, impatiently waiting for me to throw the ball—and looking like he’s ready to file a formal complaint.

    Blank space is beautiful in theory—but when you’re used to structure, it can feel a bit like trying to assemble IKEA furniture without the instructions.
    (It looks easy, until you’re crying at 2 p.m. in your robe, surrounded by screws and regrets.)

    Redefining Productivity (and Making Peace with Pajamas)

    Here’s the trap: we still think productivity equals output.
    Crossing things off. Getting things done. Accomplishment, measured in tasks.

    But what if it’s something softer now?

    Some of my most meaningful days include:

    • Writing one paragraph
    • Talking to the dogs like they’re coworkers
    • Drinking coffee without checking my phone
    • Remembering that quiet is not the same as empty

    Maybe doing nothing is just… doing something different.
    Letting your brain stop spinning.
    Letting your creativity come out of hiding.
    Letting the spice rack stay unalphabetized because you’re busy watching a butterfly land on the porch rail.

    A Soft Landing 

    If you’re staring at a blank page, a messy house, or a wide-open day wondering what to do with yourself… welcome to the club.
    Retirement isn’t a productivity contest.
    It’s a beautifully weird season of unlearning—and sometimes, just standing in the chicken coop whispering,

    “Hang in there, ladies. Mama’s got the hose.”

    The art of doing nothing is an art.
    And like any good artist, we’re allowed to experiment. To nap. To snack. To try again tomorrow.
    P.S.
    If you’ve mastered the fine art of doing nothing—or just have tips on how to keep backyard chickens from staging a coup—leave a comment. We’re all figuring it out together.