The garden has gone to weeds. Only the peas, beans, tomatoes and mammoth dill can be seen over the sad tangle. It got away from me. Not in the same way as a small child in a parking lot. One day there were rows. Life happened. Then there were no rows. Each time I drove by the fenced once-oasis the sinking feeling of failure came over me. Not all dreams come true.

We started running an Arirbnb in a ridiculously huge house which abuts our property. We own both homes. But this hulking arc has been on the market for some time now. It’s a huge hit with passerby vacationers. Just not with homebuyers. All I do is clean sheets now. No time is left for chicken snuggles or bunny lovins. The time came to drop some threads.

First it was the garden. I’d been somewhat counting on a friend for help and ran out of time in the day. Rotational grazing several rabbits became incredibly time intensive since moving them to pasture from the bunny house. Cages had to be moved twice a day on the meadow, given a handful of grain at night, and checking the water twice during the day all took time. Too much time. So I closed the rabbitry. It wasn’t like they were screwing like rabbits anyhow. It had been a non-profit endeavor all along.

A recent feud with neighbors has intensified the need to downsize. I’m increasingly stressed and unable to keep up with cleaning stalls, coops, the barnyard, my house… Everything really. It was time to take a step back and reevaluate it all. I love it all so much—but I can only do so much under pressure. Most days I moved right along. But other days, I drag my feet and turn into Debbie Downer.

So I stopped milking twice a day and dropped to once a day. I stopped hatching and selling chickens. I sold all the waterfowl. No more ducks or geese—things which Kevin never enjoyed much anyhow. He’s not into the messy creatures. He will tell you they are called waterfowl for a damn good reason. I can’t argue.

So here I am. A farm girl bleaching towels and wondering just what exactly happens in the great big house. I have found underwear on the pool deck and the balcony—separate occasions. A puddle of vodka on the carpet. Or, the classic, a full-grown man pee the bed after drinking way, way too much. I keep telling myself it’s temporary. That the house will sell soon. This an interesting way to get by but not the end game. I can do this. I got this.

I kept one bunny. Small children chased her today and I had to pour water over her, sat in the truck with her in my lap with the AC full blast. Poor Sugar, I almost lost her. Once she cooled off I dug a cool hollow into the soil under a garden cart and laid her under to rest out of the sun. She lives in the garden now. It ought to be enjoyed by someone.