Ready or not – let’s do this.

I’ve been talking about writing a blog for years.

It was supposed to be funny. Light. A place to document how a lifelong city girl somehow ended up on a “farm” with goats, chickens, too many dogs, cats, and absolutely no idea what she was doing. I even had the name picked out: Failing as a Farm Girl.

And then life changed in a way I couldn’t plan for.

On January 1st, after a four-year battle with cancer, my husband died. He was 53. I wasn’t ready. Our kids weren’t ready. The farm definitely wasn’t ready. But here we are.

For a long time, writing felt impossible. And unnecessary. And indulgent. I told myself I should wait until I was stronger, clearer, more healed. Until I had something wise to say.

But the truth is – I’ve never felt ready. And I may never feel ready.

What I do feel is the weight of holding everything together while missing the person who helped me carry it. I’m raising our ‘kids’ – Greg (26), Parker (20), and Mazzey (14) – while trying to stay present, employed, emotionally upright, and occasionally amused by the chaos that surrounds us. There’s a new puppy, six dogs total, two Maine Coons, chickens who do not respect fences, goats who believe they are in charge, and a “farm” that keeps running whether I’m ready or not.

Some days have been ridiculous. Some days are unbearably quiet. Most days are both.

This blog isn’t here because I have answers. It’s here because I needed a place where I could be honest about the absurdity of life and the ache of loss – sometimes in the same paragraph. A place where grief doesn’t cancel humor, and laughter doesn’t mean I’m “doing better.”

Failing as a Farm Girl is about the everyday silliness of this life I never planned, and the deeper work of figuring out who I am now. It’s about missing my husband while still showing up. About parenting adults and teenagers at the same time. About keeping a farm alive when you’re barely keeping yourself afloat.

If you’re reading this because you’re also carrying more than you expected to – welcome. You don’t need to have it figured out here. I certainly don’t.

I didn’t feel ready to start this blog.

But ready wasn’t the point.