Tag: homesteading

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.