Tag: Today at Briden Farm

Today at Briden Farm: One Day at a Time

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Sunday Supper at Briden Farm

Sunday, August 2, 2026

Sundays have a way of inviting us to slow down—at least a little. While the animals still expect breakfast on time and the daily chores never take a day off, there is often a quieter rhythm around the farm.

Today was one of those days that offered a chance to reflect as much as to work.

Over the past couple of days I’ve been thinking a lot about faith, purpose, and the journey ahead. I’ve lived long enough to know that life rarely unfolds exactly as we expect. Faith isn’t simply hoping something will happen—it’s believing enough to take the next step, even when you can’t yet see where the path leads.

As Scripture reminds us, faith without works is dead. Prayer is important, but so is action. Sometimes we take great strides. Other times we simply crawl forward one small step at a time. We don’t know what’s around the next bend, but we continue anyway, trusting that the Grand Architect of the Universe sees what we cannot.

That same mindset applies here at Briden Farm.

Every fence moved, every pasture rotated, every bucket of water carried, every animal cared for is another small step toward building something worthwhile. The farm wasn’t created in a day, and neither are the dreams behind it. Little by little, season by season, it continues to grow.

This evening’s supper was simple, satisfying, and very much in keeping with country life—a hearty plate enjoyed after another day on the farm. Sometimes it’s the uncomplicated meals that taste the best after a day’s work.

Tomorrow brings another new opportunity. At 10:00 a.m. I’ll be joining the next stage of the HMG Careers hiring process—a group Zoom question-and-answer session. Whether it leads somewhere or not remains to be seen, but, as with so many things in life, the important part is taking the next step. The outcome will unfold as it should. Perhaps helping fund and grow Briden Farm.

Thank you for spending part of your day here at Briden Farm. I hope your Sunday has been filled with moments of peace, gratitude, and hope for the week ahead.

Until next time, may God bless you, and may your own journey always lead you one faithful step forward.

Brian at Briden Farm 


If you’d like to Journey further, read …

This Week at Briden Farm on Substack

 

 

Today at Briden Farm: A Life Worth Sharing

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Something to Share

Thursday, July 30, 2026

Good evening from Briden Farm.

This morning began much as many mornings do, with breakfast, the dishes, and getting ready for the day ahead. The rain had settled in, promising to water the pastures while slowing things down a little.

Before long, my niece Marilyn stopped by.

She had gone to the feed store yesterday looking for feed for her hens, only to discover they were sold out. Knowing I’d purchased feed in bulk for the month, she knew where she could find enough to get her through until the store was restocked.

That’s one of the nice things about country life.

Neighbours—and family—have always helped one another.

Later in the morning, another niece, Michelle, and her husband John arrived to pick up some of our Briden Farm heritage pork. John and I actually grew up together, so every visit brings back a few memories along with plenty of conversation.

They stayed longer than I’d expected.

I’m glad they did.

We sat down with a cup of tea, talked about life, and before long we found ourselves making another batch of goat cheese together. It’s always enjoyable sharing something you’ve learned with someone who’s interested in learning it too.

Before they headed home, they offered me a ride over to the barn. Along the way we picked up the mail, and Michelle also brought along a couple of loaves of bread I’d asked her to pick up for me.

At the barn we checked on the sheep, goats, rabbits and quail, milked Patsy, and took a little extra time to introduce them to the animals that call Briden Farm home.

After the chores were finished, they dropped me back at the house, where the evening chores still waited.

The chickens, birdies, broodies and chicks, Maple and Brooke were all looked after before I wandered over to check on the pigs in their new woodland pasture.

Yesterday’s work had certainly been worthwhile.

With fresh ground beneath their feet and a rainy day to enjoy, they looked exactly as the old saying promises…

Happy as pigs in mud.

As the day came to a close, I spent some time in the kitchen preparing supper. The meal itself became a reminder of just how far Briden Farm has come over the past few years.

Our own heritage pork, slow cooked until it was falling from the bone.

Mashed potatoes made with today’s cultured cream experiment instead of butter.

And homemade goat cheese, seasoned with garlic, onion, oregano, salt and pepper.

The pork surprised me. I wouldn’t normally think of pork as having a deep, rich, earthy flavour, but that’s exactly how I’d describe it. It simply tasted… natural.

The cultured cream gave the potatoes a light tang and enough richness that I never missed the butter.

And the cheese…

Creamy, full of flavour, and quickly becoming one of my favourite things we make here on the farm.

Looking around the table tonight, it struck me that this wasn’t an extraordinary meal because it was fancy.

It was extraordinary because, little by little, Briden Farm is producing more of what appears on the plate.

Perhaps that’s one of the quiet rewards of homesteading.

Not perfection.

Not self-sufficiency in every sense.

But the satisfaction of sitting down at the end of the day and tasting the results of months—and sometimes years—of work.

Brian

Briden Farm 

Today at Briden Farm: A Slower Start

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Pan Fried Pork Steak

Today at Briden Farm – Monday, July 27, 2026

Some mornings simply come a little slower than others.

By about 9:30 this morning I’d been awake for more than two hours, yet I still hadn’t really gotten moving. After the past couple of weeks—and especially the last couple of days—I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised. Between making hay, worrying about Roscoe after he was struck by a passing truck, and the emotional weight that life sometimes brings, I was simply tired.

I always feel a little guilty when I get a slow start to the day. There’s a voice somewhere inside that says I should already be out accomplishing something. But another part of me knows that pacing myself is just as important. The chores will get done. Perhaps just at a slower pace today.

The morning chores here at home were completed as usual. The birds, chicks, chickens, Muscovies, Maple and Brooke, the pigs, and everyone else were fed and watered before I headed toward the barn.

One job still waiting is moving the pigs to fresh pasture. Normally they rotate about every two weeks, but with everything that’s happened recently they’ve stayed a little longer than planned. The girls continue to respect the electric fence well, and the piglets—born around May 13th—are now about two and a half months old and growing quickly.

By late afternoon, around five o’clock, there was really only one chore left for the day: closing up the chickens at dusk.

After checking the sheep, making sure they had fresh water and a little feed, I noticed they still had excellent pasture in front of them. Rather than walking back through their paddock, I chose to return by the road.

Partly, it was because I was simply tired. The road offered surer footing than the uneven pasture and avoided climbing the hill in the hot sunshine.

But there was another reason too.

Had I walked through the pasture, the sheep would almost certainly have gathered around me again. Nursing ewes are easy to spoil with a little extra grain, and while I enjoy keeping them friendly and easy to handle, today they really didn’t need another feeding. Sometimes the best thing a shepherd can do is simply keep walking.

Back at the house, I strained the morning’s goat milk into a bottle, finished the last few chores as evening settled in, and finally turned my thoughts toward supper.

Pan Fried Potatoes Simmered in Tea and Rosemary

Sometimes the simplest meals are the most satisfying.

Tonight’s meal was a Briden Farm heritage-raised pork steak, seasoned with Watkins Steak Seasoning and cooked in a well-seasoned cast iron skillet. Once the pork was done, thick wedges of russet potato went into the same pan to soak up every bit of flavour left behind. A little tea was added to deglaze the skillet, followed by a splash of water as it slowly reduced. Near the end came a little rosemary and salt, leaving the potatoes somewhere between pan-fried and gently simmered. A touch of HP Sauce on the side finished the meal.

It wasn’t fancy. 

It was hearty, full of flavour, and the kind of supper that might have been equally at home on a Nova Scotia farm—or perhaps in a country hotel or saloon a century and a half ago.

Looking back over the day, I realized it hadn’t been a day filled with exciting events or major accomplishments.

Instead, it was a reminder that even farmers have days when body and mind ask them to slow down.

The animals were cared for.

The chores got done.

A good meal was shared with the day.

And tomorrow…

The farm will be waiting once again.

Dolly’s Little Black Ram

Today at Briden Farm: Tuesday, July 14, 2026

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Brian with Sheep

It’s the first day of a new chapter. 

The morning began under an overcast sky with a temperature of about 18°C and a light south-southwest wind. The forecast was calling for 27 degrees later in the day, although looking out the window that seemed a little optimistic.

Today wasn’t really about the weather.

It was about finding a new rhythm.

Life changes.

Sometimes gradually.

Sometimes all at once.

The animals, however, don’t know anything has changed. They still expect breakfast. They still expect fresh water. They still depend on someone showing up.

By 11:14 this morning the chores here at home were finished.

The broody hens and their chicks had all been fed and watered.

The chickens, ducks, pigs, Maple and Brooke, the puppies, Roscoe and River had all been looked after.

Even a couple of sinkfuls of dishes got washed.

I’d call that a productive morning.

As I sat down for a few minutes, I found myself wondering how best to organize my days going forward.

Should I rest through the hottest part of the afternoon and head to the barn later?

Or should I simply power through, get everything finished, and enjoy the evening knowing the work was done?

Today, I chose to power through.

It turned out to be the right decision.

By late afternoon I was still at the barn.

Another section of fence line was trimmed, and the sheep were moved into fresh pasture.

Once again they quietly followed me, making the move almost effortless.

The sheep and goats were all fed and watered.

Patsy was milked.

The evening chores were completed.

I even managed to get by with doing only the essentials for the rabbits, knowing they were fine and that sometimes good farming is about understanding what absolutely has to be done today and what can reasonably wait until tomorrow.

Nothing was neglected.

Just prioritized.

By the time I made the ten-minute walk back through the woods to the house, I’d probably put in a seven- or eight-hour day.

For the first full day of a new routine…

I’ll gladly take that.

Back home another little job was waiting.

The load of laundry I’d started earlier had finished, so I hung it out on the clothesline to dry.

It’s funny how ordinary things can seem like accomplishments.

Life isn’t made up only of big moments.

Sometimes it’s dishes washed.

Laundry drying in the breeze.

Dogs sleeping after a day’s work.

Sheep content in fresh pasture.

Goats chewing their cud.

Sometimes those little things quietly remind us that everything is going to be all right.

By six o’clock I faced what was probably the biggest decision of the day.

Nap…

Or supper?

The nap was tempting.

After all, I’d earned it.

But experience has taught me that a “short nap” at six in the evening often turns into a full night’s sleep.

So…

Supper won.

Tonight’s menu was simple.

Sliced ham.

Pan-fried fries made from raw potatoes.

Seasoned with nothing more complicated than salt, pepper and garlic.

After a full day on the farm, it tasted just about perfect.

Looking back over today, I realize it wasn’t really about getting everything exactly right.

It was about proving to myself that I can do this.

The routine may be different.

It may continue to evolve over the coming weeks.

There will undoubtedly be adjustments to make.

But the chores got done.

The animals were cared for.

And Briden Farm continues moving forward.

One pasture.

One meal.

One load of laundry.

One day at a time.

Tomorrow…

We’ll do it all again.