Cozy Season on the Farmstead

Hey friends —

I’ve been in a quieter season of life, the kind that invites you to step back, breathe a little deeper, and listen closely to the voice that lives beneath all the noise. The one that nudges, guides, and asks us to be honest with ourselves. It’s been good for me — steadying, necessary, and a reminder of how important it is to pause before stepping into what’s next.

Since things have been a little sporadic here, I wanted to take a moment to reintroduce myself and share what this slower stretch has looked like. It won’t last forever; I’ve given myself a couple of months to reset, make a few needed changes, and gently shift into the next season of my life and work.

But first, let’s get caught up.

Around the Farmstead

Winter finally found its way to East Tennessee. I brought in all the houseplants — which turned into its own sort of puzzle. In the garage, I found an old cedar-lined table (Papaw’s, maybe?). It had a waterproof top, so I dragged it inside, cleaned it up, and gave the smaller plants a home there. The larger ones tucked themselves into corners around the house.

I love cozy spaces, but not cluttered ones, so I moved the living room around and carved out a small reading nook in the bedroom — which is where I’m writing this from. It opened up the house in a way I didn’t expect. There’s still decorating to do, but the shift made everything feel a little more intentional.

In October, I hosted my first Sunday Supper Club. A group of ladies gathered on the back porch for dinner, and we ended the night around the fire pit, wrapped in conversation. It felt like the beginning of something I want more of.

And yes… the chicks. I bought hatching eggs and ended up with sixteen little barred rocks. One didn’t make it — he hatched two days late and didn’t have the strength to recover. That part never gets easier. The rest are thriving, fluttering around their temporary coop inside the enclosed run. They’re ten weeks old now and absolutely full of themselves.

My brother moved the old metal carport over to their future home. We’ve fenced it in and will build out a coop inside — close enough that I can see them from the kitchen window, far enough that they’re not underfoot. Messy little buggers, those chickens. I ended up with six hens and nine roosters, and once they’re grown, I’ll sort out the boys based on their temperaments.

Otherwise, life has been steady and simple — cooking, making things from scratch, reusing what I have, and spending time with Anna Lee. Walks have been trickier to fit in, but I take her on little outings when I can. The benefit of doing your own thing: the dog comes too.

A Little About Me

Now that we’re caught up, here’s a bit about who I am and what “The Farmstead” and “Chicken Librarian” really means.

My name is Kristin, and I’ve been farmsteading for almost twenty years. It started with chickens, and eventually grew into gardening, foraging, and preserving. Over time, I found myself deeply rooted in this way of life.

I use the word farmsteading because “homesteading” has a certain weight to it that doesn’t quite fit me. Farmsteading feels gentler, more elevated — like Martha Stewart meets muddy boots. Tidy rows, beautiful messes, wellies in the morning dew. It’s small, intentional, and built to nourish my family while bringing a bit of beauty into the everyday.

I love order and rhythm: lists, notebooks, diaries, little systems that make life feel manageable. (I truly do need a label maker.)

And I believe — deeply — that people should be who they are. I spent too many years living for other people’s expectations, and now that I’m free of that, I guard this inner quiet closely. Part of this season has been learning to let go of the “shoulds” and move toward what feels genuine.

One of the truest things about me is this: I want people to feel welcome, seen, and safe here. I believed that even when I was young, though I lost sight of it for a while. I’m back to it now.

Little Things That Make Me, Me

I love jazz, blues, and bluegrass — the kind of music you feel before you understand. And the in-between artists, too: Ryan Bingham, Caamp, Zach Bryan (not quite country, really), Nathaniel Rateliff… the soundtrack of this season.

I love learning. Anything, really. For a long time, I thought I wasn’t smart enough to hold my own in certain conversations. Turns out I just hadn’t learned the thing yet. Now I read, listen, watch, and wander into topics I never knew to be curious about.

And I want this space — the farmstead, the blog, the newsletter — to feel good to be in. Calm. Restorative. Honest. I can only create that when I’m grounded myself, and this quiet stretch has reminded me how important it is to protect that sense of steadiness.

A few fun things:
I adore all things British and could easily imagine myself living in the UK someday. My style is heavily shaped by that love.
I’m a big believer in farm-to-table living — and that will shape a lot of what comes next.
And once upon a time, I wanted to be a nurse. It made sense in all the practical ways, but it wasn’t my dream. I’ve always known what my dream is — I was just afraid to chase it. I’m still a little scared, but I’m finally moving toward it.

A New Season Ahead

So here’s to this next stretch — to quiet days, creative work, and a home that feels like a refuge. You’ll start to notice changes here in this space, on the farmstead, and over on social media. I’ve already renamed the newsletter: Love Letters to the Farmstead.

I’m grateful you’re here with me.

’til next time,
-k
xoxo