The fall leaves are still putting on a show, though most of our trees now stand bare against the sky. Every gust of wind sends a new flurry of color tumbling down the driveway — a mix of golds, deep reds, and that soft bronze that only shows up right before winter sets in. The forest around us looks different every day. Some mornings it feels like the trees changed overnight. Even though most of the leaves have fallen, there’s still that magic to this time of year. The garden is quiet and resting, and everything feels like it’s taking a deep breath before the long winter ahead.
Life in the barnyard has settled into its fall-season rhythm. Our new little buckling, Draco, is officially part of the herd now — or more specifically, the doe side of the herd. He’s adjusting well, full of personality, and clearly feeling confident about his place here. Recently, he experienced his first doe in heat and, well… let’s just say he was very enthusiastic about it. Thankfully, he’s still a bit too small to make good on those ambitions, but he’s already acting like a seasoned pro. It’s funny to watch — such a tiny goat strutting around with all the swagger of a full-grown buck. He’s turning into quite the character, keeping us entertained every day.
With the days getting shorter, we’re waking up in the dark now. The first sound most mornings is the roosters crowing, though it pitch black outside… the wind blows through the trees making the faint rustle of leaves sound like waves. I open the sunporch door to let the dogs out and say, “good morning!” the goats start to stir and call in reply! Always makes me smile. By the time we’re outside, flashlights in hand, the stars are still bright overhead. It’s a bit of a juggling act — a flashlight in one hand, a grain bucket and cups in the other, pulling the wagon full of hay – if I’m really organized — but there’s something peaceful about those early-morning chores. The world feels quieter then. Just the crunch of leaves under boots, the goats nickering for breakfast, and the first light of dawn slowly turning the sky from black to gray to gold.
The weather’s been pretty warm actually… I want it to be cool and crisp, you know? Sweater weather. Instead it’s been second summer. With the fire ban still flicking on and off depending on the amount of rainfall. Whenever it’s off, we waste no time lighting a small fire in our chimenea. There’s nothing better than that crackle of wood and the smell of smoke curling into the chilly evening air. Sometimes we just sit there and talk, sometimes we don’t say anything at all — just watch the embers glow while the last light fades over the trees of our forest.
Our front steps are dressed up for the season with bright orange pumpkins and a big multi-colored pot of fall mums — a thoughtful gift from my parents when they were visiting. They’ve brought such a cheerful splash of color to the front of the house. Every time I walk by, it feels like a small reminder of them and the cozy family moments we shared when they were here. It’s funny how quickly the homestead shifts once company leaves and the days start shortening. After their visit, we slipped right back into our regular rhythm — the daily rounds, repairs, and projects that never quite seem to end. But that’s the beauty of it. There’s a comfort in the routine.
Not everything has been work, though. We recently celebrated a friend’s daughter’s birthday — the kind of small-town gathering that makes you grateful for good neighbors. They rented a big bouncy castle for the kids, and I volunteered to do face painting. It was a perfect fit for the day’s energy — glitter, giggles, and more butterfly requests than I could count. Afterward, we took an ATV ride through their woods. The sun was shining, the leaves were glowing overhead, and it was one of those perfect autumn afternoons where you just can’t help but pause and take it all in.
Fridays have turned into craft nights lately — a cozy little tradition that started almost by accident and has become one of my favorite ways to end the week. Everyone brings something to share — glue guns, paper, old ribbon, bits of fabric — and somehow, out of that chaotic pile, beautiful things emerge. Last time, we made paper strip pumpkins. Simple, but so satisfying. Each one turned out differently, depending on who made it — some tall and elegant, some round and cheerful, all perfectly imperfect. There’s something about sitting around a table with friends, drink of some kind in hand, creating together while the sky darkens outside. It feels like community, and that I’m really fitting it. Love it.
We finally managed to carve out time to visit my sister in Rosaireville, which has been on the list for a while, well a month at least, as the last time we dropped off our trailer. Between everyone’s schedules, we decided to skip the traditional turkey dinner this year and do a Thanksgiving brunch instead. It was perfect — relaxed, cozy, and full of laughter. Since the trailer is already there we stayed overnight, which was a treat in itself. The drive there and back was pure magic. The leaves were at their peak, and we must have said “wow, it’s so beautiful here” about a thousand times. Honestly, if anyone else had been in the truck, they probably would’ve asked us to stop repeating ourselves. But we couldn’t help it — it really was that beautiful. Now the trailer’s back home again, just in time to start winterizing it for the season. Another small job checked off the list as we shift into the colder months.
And then there’s Bucky — our little escape artist. He’s developed a bad habit of wandering off when he’s let out to do his business. One minute he’s in the yard, the next he’s gone, nose down and tail wagging, off on some grand self-guided tour of the wilderness. After a few too many heart-stopping moments, we finally got him a fence collar. He’s not thrilled about it, to say the least, but it’s for his own good. Better a grumpy dog than a missing one! He doesn’t understand the panic his adventures cause, but at least now we can breathe a little easier when we let him outside.
It’s funny — every season on the homestead has its own kind of busy. Spring is a rush of planting, Summer is growing, and building. Fall slows that down after the harvest is in, but in its place comes the endless list of prep work: winterizing, stacking wood, deep-cleaning barns, storing equipment, checking fences. And yet, even with all that, fall always feels like a time to pause and reflect a little. Maybe it’s the shorter days or the cool evenings that make you slow down and take stock. Maybe it’s the way everything seems to glow — even as it fades. Addy’s schedule has changed with no morning market on the weekends, so he’s had some time to start a few of our projects. He is nearly done the new area for our ducks – big plans for them! A larger fenced area, a place for their pool that’s more convenient for us. And a few separate areas for when we introduce new ducks to our flock. He is also putting together a free plastic shed he picked up in the summer… only to discover its not as complete as the people said… good thing he is handy and can build a roof for it, no problem!
It’s continued to be the driest summer and fall on record here in New Brunswick. Since it’s Fall we no longer have to try and keep up with watering the large garden. Thank goodness! It’s begun to rain more and finally cool off a bit, hopefully things get back to normal for this time of year. The goats will start to fluff up and put on their winter coats, the chickens are molting, and even the ducks seem to be spending more time tucked in together. It’s a quieter kind of life right now — and with our crazy summer, I think we’re all ready for it.
All in all, it’s been a busy, colorful few weeks full of small joys, furry antics, cozy fires, and that crisp sense of change that autumn always brings. Life on the Funny Farm isn’t perfect — it’s dusty and more recently muddy, unpredictable, sometimes chaotic — but it’s ours, and that’s what makes it special.
Thanks, as always, for reading and following along with our little corner of the world. I hope wherever you are, you’re finding your own moments of warmth, color, and calm this season.