Some seasons are for tending.

Tending doesn’t look impressive. It doesn’t announce itself. It doesn’t stack accomplishments or create visible progress. It keeps what already exists alive and well, quietly and faithfully.

When you’re not expanding, tending might look like maintaining rather than improving. Cleaning, repairing, repeating the same small acts instead of upgrading systems or chasing efficiencies. It is choosing to keep what you have in good order rather than reaching for more.

There are seasons when the homestead produces bread, eggs, herbs, jars lined up like quiet victories on a shelf.
And then there are seasons when it produces… almost nothing you can photograph or sell.