Since buying the homestead, I can honestly say that I am the most excited, exhausted, inspired, and invigorated  I have been in years.  I’m also the sorest I have been in years.  I hurt.  All over.

The constant discomfort has caused me to think a lot about strength.  Strength comes in many forms – some evident to the eye and some in less tangible forms.  There’s mom strength.  There’s emotional strength.  There’s physical strength.  There’s strength of character.  There’s creative strength.  And then there’s farm strength, which I would say is a particular blend of muscle, grit, and gumption.  There’s probably a good helping of stubborn in there too.

And folks, I have to say – farm strong, I am not… not yet, anyway.  Stubborness? I’ve got it in spades.  And my husband would tell you I have plenty of pluck.  But muscle – yeah – that’s what I’m missing.

I knew before we bought the farm that I have had a desk job for going on six years.  Over the last two years I have really started to *feel* the toll having a sedentary job and little time to commit to exercise has taken on my body.

Enter: the farm.  The sort of vague notion I have had about the atrophy of my muscles is brought into very clear and painful light.

My shoulders hurt.  My back hurts.  My neck hurts.  My legs hurt.  My brain hurts.  I am now besties with my doterra Deep Blue Rub.  It is pretty much saving my sanity as I write this.  And did I mention I went out and bought aspercreme like I’m a 90 year old lady with arthritis?

Yeah.  That happened.  Sigh.

Twice since taking on this challenging renovation, I have taken vacation from my day job.  And I worked.  And worked.  We tackled the wood floors:

Beautiful, huh? Not bad for a couple of amateurs taking a stab at some seriously abused floors, but I digress.

I have had to lower septic risers into 4 foot holes in almost freezing conditions (Pulling the lid on the septic tank stinks even when it is cold by the way.  I can’t unsmell that).  There has been bending and digging, operating heavy tools, sanding and more sanding, lifting lumber and equipment, pressure washing, painting, and pouring concrete.  Each task has brought to my attention muscles I had forgotten I had.

But here’s the odd part.  At the end of that time I took and devoted myself to this type of work – I was so sore, yes, but for the first time in years, I felt physically STRONG.  And, maybe it comes as no surprise to some, I felt focused too.

I got to go outside and breath the frosty morning air.  I got to lift things I didn’t think I could and fail to lift things I really wanted to.  It hurt and it felt amazing.

Speaking of things I can’t lift, meet the muscle of the operation just lifting a big heavy cabinet into position…

He does things with his muscles for a living and it shows. But once again, I digress.

Showers have never felt so hot and inviting. My mattress feels softer and I didn’t even get a new one.  And coffee never tastes quite as good as when I come inside from breaking up frozen water in this weather…

And for folks who know me, saying that coffee can taste better to me than it already did is pretty much unthinkable.  My love of coffee runs deep.

After less than two months of this, I have come to one realization – if this homesteading dream is going to succeed, it is going to take all my stubborn to refuse to give up and to continue to get a whole lot stronger.

Also, it is going to take some baby goats and maybe another puppy or perhaps a piglet to snuggle.  This girl needs baby animal goodness to remember what all the work is for.  Little niceties like a house with working heat and bedrooms with working doors are fine, but I’m in it for the animals.