A Day in the Life at Tanglefoot Farm (It Rarely Goes as Planned)

A Day in the Life at Tanglefoot Farm (It Rarely Goes as Planned)

I have three days off a week from my “real job” as an Operating Room Nurse.

Saturday… which we spend nine hours to go to the Farm Market, work the Farm Market, and come home from the Farm Market. And then when we get home...we nap. Sunday… which is dedicated to cleaning the house and doing laundry like semi-responsible adults.And then there’s Monday.

Monday is where all the ambition lives.

Last Monday, I had exactly one thing on my to-do list:weed out the relocated caterpillar tunnel.

Just one task. A reasonable task. A completely achievable task.

I also happened to have the AC repairman coming, the GE appliance guy scheduled to replace the cracked glass top on my four-month-old stove (don’t ask), and it was apprentice day on the farm—which means I periodically check in to make sure everyone is alive and moving in the same general direction.

No problem. Totally manageable.

The AC guy showed up early.

So of course, I’m coming down from the barn in full glory: yellow sheep pajamas, blue muck boots, carrying a pail of milk and a basket of eggs, while trying to convince Rowdy (our Cowdog/Aussie mix) that this stranger is not, in fact, here to destroy everything we love.

Rowdy disagreed.

I’m pretty sure the AC guy took one look at me and thought, “Yep. I am definitely in Oklahoma. This is exactly what I expected.”

He got started, and while he was working, he left the back of his van open.

This becomes important.

Because when he went back to grab tools, he discovered—surprise!—a rooster had taken up temporary residence in the back of his van.

Welcome to the farm.

Meanwhile, the GE guy shows up while I’m in the kitchen straining milk.

The sink is full. The counters are full. Life is full.

So I do what any reasonable person does: shove everything to one side and say, “You’re good.”

He gets to work. I head back outside with Rowdy to check on the apprentices.

So far, I’m still thinking I might get to my one task.

On the way to the caterpillar tunnel, one of the interns casually mentions:

“Hey… the wind blew a tree down on the fence over there.”

In my mind, I’m picturing a limb. Maybe two.

It was not a limb.

It was an entire, full-grown, absolutely massive tree. Flattened fence. Completely blocking the tunnel. Zero chance of “quick fix.”

So I go find my husband—also known as The Reluctant Farmer—who is, happily, always very enthusiastic when chainsaws are involved.

He grabs the saw. I grab the “tractor” (an elderly John Deere mower with the deck removed that we are generously calling farm equipment), and off we go.

An hour and a half, three trips to the firewood pile, and a whole lot of sawdust later, the tree is gone.

The fence, however, is still very much a problem.

About then, the AC guy tracks me down.

I pause my lumberjack career to go hear the verdict.

Miraculously, it’s good news. The repair is simple and significantly less expensive than I had mentally prepared for, which feels like winning the lottery.

I head back into the house to check on the GE guy.

He has… vanished.

Just gone.

But the new stovetop is installed, so apparently he completed his mission and decided not to go looking for the crazy pajama-clad farmer wrestling a tree in the back pasture. (To be clear, by this time I had real clothes on... worth mentioning.)

But honestly, fair.

Right about then, I realize I haven’t fed the goats.

I realize this because they are lined up at the fence, screaming like they have been abandoned for weeks.

This is despite:

• a full pasture of green grass

• a completely stocked hay feeder

But no grain = immediate starvation, obviously.

So I make the rounds:goats, chicks, chickens, barn cat.

Everyone is once again convinced I am their hero.

By now it’s 1:00 p.m., and I realize I am also starving—because breakfast was at 4:00 a.m.

Fifteen minutes and a quick sandwich later, I am finally, finally ready to start the one task I planned for the day:

weeding the caterpillar tunnel.

Except.

My husband waves me down.

He’s working on the new chicken run (repurposed from an old tunnel), and he “just needs help” setting the bows.

This is how it always starts.

So we set the bows.Then we decide we might as well go ahead and finish assembling the teenage chick enclosure.Then we move the chicks out of the brooder and into their new home.

Because if you’re already doing one extra thing, you might as well do five.

Chicks in their new home. All the space is freaking them out a little bit.

At 5:30 p.m., I officially move“weed cat tunnel”to next week’s list.

I had one job.

One.

But the AC got fixed, the stove got replaced, the tree got cleared, the animals got fed, the chicks got upgraded,  the plants got planted, and nobody died.

And honestly, around here… that counts as a wildly successful Monday.