Shakin’ Acres

06/19/2026

06/19/2026

Slowly transforming the old duck run into more pasture space for the girls! 🐓🌿 We’re wrapping the chicken run and coop on three sides to help deter predators, reclaim a little more yard, and give our ladies plenty of extra room to roam.

It’s been a rewarding project, but I definitely picked the hottest week imaginable to tackle it. 😅☀️ Thankfully, I married a man who always jumps in to help, even after long days and when he’d probably rather be doing anything else. His hard work and willingness to support all of my crazy ideas never go unnoticed. ❤️

Little by little, we’re building the homestead we’ve dreamed about, and I’m so grateful to have such an amazing husband by my side. 🥰🐔🌾

05/29/2026

A few days ago, I found the fox that’s been visiting my farm.

I wasn’t angry. Foxes are just doing what foxes do.

But standing there looking at him, I couldn’t help but think about everything that’s happened lately and how life seems to have a way of piling everything on at once.

The loss of my chickens hit harder than most people probably realize. To some, they were just chickens. To me, they were part of my daily routine, part of this little life I’ve worked so hard to build. Every coop check, every egg collected, every familiar face waiting for treats in the morning—it all mattered.

And maybe that’s why it’s been weighing on me so heavily.

Because it isn’t just about the chickens.

It’s about trying to recover from heart surgery while simultaneously trying to find some sense of normal again. It’s about trying to catch up on everything that stopped when my world stopped. It’s about realizing that healing isn’t just physical. Sometimes the hardest part is figuring out who you are after everything you’ve been through.

Losing my flock felt like one more thing slipping through my fingers at a time when I’m already struggling to hold everything together.

I keep waiting for life to ease up a little. For things to stop colliding all at once. For a season where I’m not constantly recovering from something.

But that’s farming, isn’t it?

You love things knowing there’s always a chance you’ll lose them. You keep showing up anyway. You rebuild. You mend fences. You protect what you can and grieve what you can’t.

So that’s what I’m doing.

Some days it feels impossible. Some days it feels unfair.

But tomorrow I’ll still walk outside, feed the animals I have left, and keep putting one foot in front of the other.

Because that’s what this life has taught me to do.

05/19/2026

I’ve been in and out of the hospital multiple times since surgery, but today I finally got to see my garden again and she is ✨ THRIVING ✨

So excited to see what this year does for us 💕🌸

04/30/2026

I don’t think people realize how overwhelming it is to try to “prepare” your entire life to be put on pause.

In a matter of days, I’ll be having heart surgery. And while that alone is terrifying, what’s almost just as heavy is everything I’m trying to hold together before I go.

A farm doesn’t stop because I’m in a hospital bed. Animals still need fed, watered, checked. Things still break. Life still moves. I’ve been running myself into the ground trying to make sure everything is set up, everything is stocked, everything is as easy as possible for the people stepping in to carry it while I can’t.

On top of that, it’s the house. The laundry. The messes that somehow multiply when you’re stressed. Trying to clean and organize like I can somehow leave things “perfect,” even though deep down I know that’s not realistic.

And then there’s the financial side… bills, gas, food, the extra strain of my husband going back and forth while I’m in the hospital. It feels like trying to solve a puzzle where every piece costs money we don’t really have to spare right now.

I’m exhausted. Physically, mentally, emotionally. My brain doesn’t shut off—just constant lists running through my head of what I might be forgetting, what I still need to do, what could go wrong.

And underneath all of that… is fear.

Fear of the surgery. Fear of complications. Fear of not being here to take care of the life we’ve built.

I’m trying so hard to be strong and stay focused, but the truth is… this is a lot. Way more than I expected it to be.

If you’ve ever wondered what this part looks like—the “before”—it’s not just appointments and countdowns. It’s chaos, pressure, and trying to hold your whole world together with shaky hands.

Just taking it one hour at a time right now.

Enjoy a little before and after of what we’ve been working on. We’re so proud of it. ❤️🥰

04/26/2026

🐓 Chickens Available! 🐓

Looking to add to your flock? I have a beautiful selection of laying hens ready for new coops!

✨ Breeds Available:
• Rhode Island Reds – hardy, reliable layers of beautiful brown eggs
• Black Australorps – known for their high egg production and calm temperament
• Easter Eggers – colorful eggs in shades of blue/green and full of personality
• Olive Eggers – unique dark green eggs and a great addition to any flock

These girls are well cared for and make a great addition whether you’re just starting out or expanding your flock.

Message me for details, availability, and pricing! 🐣🌿

04/26/2026

🐣 Farm Fresh Eggs Available! 🥚

I’ve got a variety of fresh eggs ready to go!

✨ Chicken Eggs (Eating Only)Several dozen available — fresh, delicious, and perfect for your kitchen!

✨ Chicken Hatching EggsFertile and ready for your incubator — great for starting or adding to your flock.

✨ Muscovy Duck Hatching EggsLimited — 1 dozen available! These are hardy, excellent foragers and great to raise.

All eggs are collected fresh from healthy, well-cared-for birds right here on the farm.

Message me for pricing, availability, or to claim yours before they’re gone! 🐓🌿

02/11/2026

My girl Anita did an amazing job delivering not one but TWO little does this past Super Bowl Sunday!
They still need names!
Any suggestions?
🥰🐐

02/11/2026

It starts before the sun. Not because I’m motivated.
Because the goats said so.

They scream like I’ve never fed them a day in their lives. Every. Single. Morning.
The chickens act personally offended that their coop isn’t five-star housekeeping.
The ducks? They wake up and immediately choose chaos and mud.

The dogs clock in for work but mostly supervise.
The cats pretend they own the place.
The bunnies thump dramatically over absolutely nothing.

And me?
Boots on. Hair in a messy bun. Coffee in hand. Trying to remember what day it is while hauling feed that feels heavier than my emotional baggage.

It’s breaking ice off water buckets in winter.
Dragging hoses in summer.
Fixing fences that were perfectly fine yesterday.
Refilling minerals.
Scrubbing buckets.
Repeating it all tomorrow.

It’s checking babies before checking notifications.
Counting heads like a paranoid mother hen.
Running hands down backs and looking into eyes to make sure everyone’s bright and breathing and okay.

Farm life doesn’t care if you had a hard night.
It doesn’t pause because you’re tired or overwhelmed or questioning everything.

The animals still need water.
They still need grain.
They still need you to show up.

And somehow… that’s the steady part.

Because even when life feels messy and relationships feel complicated and your heart feels stretched thin, the barn just says,
“Cool. Here’s something useful to do.”

There’s healing in hauling hay.
Therapy in mucking stalls.
Perspective in a baby goat bouncing around like life isn’t that serious.

It’s not glamorous.
It’s not always cute.
It’s definitely not clean.

But it’s honest.
It’s grounding.
It’s muddy boots, sore muscles, and dirt under your nails with a side of rooster alarm clocks you never asked for.

And when the sun drops and everyone’s fed and settled, and the barn goes quiet except for soft chewing hay…

There’s this tired, satisfied whisper:

“You kept them safe today.”

And maybe tomorrow the goats will act like they’ve met me before.
Probably not.
But we’ll try again anyway. 🐐🤍