A Writer’s Day in the Life on a Farm

And Why No One Under Thirty Wants To Farm

This was my life in the beginning before (thankfully!) our property manager came to live on the farm. If I had to do this every day, like most farmers, I’d lose my mind. And there would be no writing career. While I may have posted parts or all of this previously, it bears repeating to remind us that our life will significantly change without small farms in the U.S.

These are the Baaas. They were exploring and wanted to know what was in the back of the lift on the tractor. Yes, you can roll your eyes now.

BE THANKFUL FOR THE PEOPLE WHO GROW YOUR FOOD. Seriously, stop right now and say a word of thanks out loud for the thousands of small farmers who grow the very cool things, the organic things, and those beautiful heirloom tomatoes that you only find one month a year in Whole Foods.

Here’s what a day in the life looks like:

4:45 First call to prayer.

It’s still dark. I sleep through this unless it is the overly ambitious Imam’s turn from the village in the valley. He’s VERY loud. And he cannot carry a tune in a bucket.

5:30 Sunrise

Pinks and oranges float over the eastern mountains. Beautiful. Sometimes I’m actually up to see it.

6:00 Harvey’s first crow.

Started out as usually only one, sometimes two. Then my husband got a second rooster and now there’s competition between them. Brutal.

6:30 Drag out of bed.

Harvey gives me his secondary warning.

Check for any emergency messages from the kids (just a habit, there are never any; they are adults.) Check to see which country has blown up things in another.

7:00 Inhale the first coffee (thank you, Nespresso)

Harvey gets louder.

Fix the dogs’ breakfast.

Put in a load of laundry.

7:15 Chocolat (yes, the French pronunciation), the racing stallion, begins to complain loudly. His water bucket is dry, he says, and he accidentally (yeah, right) kicked his food bucket over. “Hurry up!” he says.

7:30-8:30 Morning food and water for animals.

All three Chickenville doors are open to freedom. Murphy (a male Akbash guard dog) and Stitch (a Malinois) are put in their dog area, and their water is replenished. They work at night, eat at night, and sleep during the day. Hugs are given, and I’m now covered in dog fur.

The chickens and guinea hens quickly spread over the adjacent field.

Down the hill at the barn, Caramel the mare is waiting. Her water bucket is also dry. She stares at me as if I have forgotten she exists. Oh, the guilt of not rising at 5:30.

Horses are fed and watered. Hugs given. Horse hair is added to the growing layer on my shirt. Choco’s water bucket is split from use as a soccer ball. Add a new bucket to the supply list for Monday.

8:30 Breakfast for humans

Thanks given as everyone is suddenly quiet. (It does not last long.)

9:00 Big House chores – one day per week

Making the bed (washing sheets, towels, etc., if we have had guests), vacuuming the carpets, mopping the floors, dusting everything, including the couch, and washing the bathrooms. Farm life is very dusty and extremely dirty.

9:00 Writing Time – all other days

I get up and move every hour, either to check the front gate to allow workers in, see what Choco is complaining about, hang up the laundry, do squats, shoo the chickens pooping on my front porch, or fuss at Harvey to STFU.

14:00 Nap time (summers only)

I use earplugs and hide in my reading nook (my husband built me a lovely library corner with a daybed).

16:00 Marketing / Social Media time (it’s 9:00 a.m. in the US)

Emails from Marketing Genie, spam, and other useful emails. Substack drafting, video uploads, and scheduling, commenting, commiserating over the state of the universe, etc. ONLY ONE HOUR

17:00 Start dinner (if I do the cooking – my husband cooks much better, but I’m learning).

18:30 Evening feeding, water check, egg collecting, and new plant watering.

I am unable to get the chickens to return to their houses at night. Either my husband has to do this, or one of the guys from the village stops by if I’m alone, to ensure they are all accounted for. I’m so disrespected in Chickenville. (Now the property manager handles this. The chickens like him and his wife much better than me.)

In the beginning, this was the egg haul. Now it’s double this each evening and growing. We just released 22 Guinea Fowl, which lay tiny eggs. Need some eggs?

19:30 Dinner

We may eat dinner between 5:30 p.m. and 8:30 p.m., depending on who drops by or which worker is still here. We are finishing up the house details (electrical, security, preparing the caretaker’s house for full-time living, etc.).

Turks have no qualms about dropping by for tea or a drink as late as 8:30 or 9:00 p.m. I NEVER put my PJs on until 9:30. I’ll never get used to that, and because in the summer, by 8:30 (current sunset), I’m ready to fall over.

20:30 Sunset

21:00 I shower and get ready for bed.

Read for about 30 minutes to help me sleep. (I don’t know what I’d do without Court Gentry, Gabriel Allon, and Jack Reacher – IYKYK)

22:30 Nightly call to prayer.

Finally, everyone is asleep. Then Stitch and Murphy begin to bark. They walk patrol every night and ensure we are safe from bears, boars, and jackals.

And before you know it, the early morning ezan begins again…

Murphy is tired and wants to go to bed, but the chickens make a lot of noise around him. They feel safe with him, so they are never far away.

I do not know how farmers do this. I love living in the mountains, having animals, and growing our own food. But without the help we have in Türkiye, it would be impossible. Simply impossible.

AGAIN, BE THANKFUL FOR THOSE WHO GROW YOUR FOOD.

(I’m not talking about you, commercial farming organizations.)