Sometimes on the farm, it’s the slow, steady work that makes all the difference. I’ve spent the past week with a wheelbarrow, moving wood chips one painstaking load at a time. No tractor this time—it’s just me, the wheelbarrow, and the endless rhythm of shoveling, lifting, walking, and dumping. And let me tell you, these wood chips are no walk in the park. The outside of the pile is loose and dry, but the inside is still frozen solid. Every shovelful is a battle, a reminder that nature’s timeline doesn’t bend to convenience. It’s slow going, sure, but there’s something oddly satisfying about the process.
We’re spreading these wood chips for a few key reasons. First up, the old coal-built lane. Years of use and erosion have left it hard-packed and barren, barely able to support any grass. By covering it in wood chips, we’re giving the ground a fighting chance to hold moisture and eventually grow something green again. It might seem small—just a layer of wood chips—but over time, it will completely transform the lane, making it softer, healthier, and better for the farm.
Then there are the chicken-frequented areas. You know the ones—bare dirt patches where the birds scratch, peck, and roam like they own the place. They’ve worn it down to nothing, and that’s not doing anyone any favors. Spreading wood chips in those areas helps in so many ways. It reduces mud, creates a buffer against erosion, and encourages soil health by breaking down over time. Plus, it just looks better. Sure, it’s not a perfectly manicured lawn, but let’s be honest—that manicured look doesn’t scream “sustainable.” This does. This is practical, environmentally friendly, and perfect for the needs of the farm. And practicality wins every time.
As I push the wheelbarrow back and forth, often grumbling about frozen wood chips and aching muscles, I can’t help but think about how this work mirrors life. Big changes don’t happen overnight. It’s the small, repetitive actions—those loads of wood chips—that add up to something greater. The lane won’t be lush and green tomorrow, and the chicken areas won’t magically transform in a week. But in a month, a season, or a year? That’s when we’ll see the difference. It’s a reminder that progress isn’t always flashy or fast, but it’s worth it.
Beyond the farm, there’s an even bigger picture. Covering bare dirt with wood chips might seem like a small act, but it has a ripple effect. It prevents soil erosion, retains moisture, and even sequesters a bit of carbon as the wood breaks down. Multiply this effort across countless farms and gardens, and suddenly, those small actions start to make a big environmental impact. It’s proof that even the seemingly mundane work we do in our own corners of the world matters.
So here’s to the slow progress, the stubbornly frozen wood chips, the wheelbarrows full of effort, and the quiet satisfaction of knowing that change is happening—one shovel, one wheelbarrow, one load at a time. What’s your slow, steady project right now? Pull up a chair and let’s trade stories, because every small step counts.
Until next time,
Traci
