Pig Panels, Post Drivers, and the Work That Wears You Down (in a Good Way)
If I could bottle how my body feels right now, I think it’d be called “Farm-Worn #5.” Hints of sweat, cedar, mineral soil, and just a touch of regret for thinking I could install four hog panels in one day without help.
I didn’t finish everything today. But I got a good start. And more importantly—I started.
That’s something.
Morning: Fuel and Focus
The day began early, not because I planned it that way, but because my back woke me up before the sun had a chance.
I guess yesterday’s seed-starting and fence pacing caught up to me.
Still, I brewed coffee, fried up an egg and some leftover sweet potatoes, and headed out to the barn by 7 a.m. The air was cool and crisp, the sky streaked with clouds that hinted at afternoon heat.
The chicks were chirping strong, the goats were head-butting over nothing, and everything felt alive.
I loaded the T-posts, wire, and two of the four 16-foot hog panels onto the cart and started hauling it out to the east pasture. The pigs won’t arrive until May, but I want their setup ready well in advance.
Mostly because I know the land will throw me ten distractions between now and then.
The Post Driver Battle
Let me say this: post drivers are liars.
They seem innocent enough. A long steel tube with handles. Just lift and drop, right?
Until you’ve lifted it for the 15th time, arms shaking, sweat stinging your eyes, wondering if this is how your ancestors felt when they first fenced in wild land.
The ground in that pasture is hard-packed clay, and after last week’s rain, just dry enough to be rock solid.
I drove in five T-posts before I had to stop, sit down on a bucket, and ask myself if I’d actually planned this out properly. It’s easy to underestimate how heavy those drivers feel after the third or fourth post.
But as I sat there, sipping lukewarm coffee from my thermos, I looked around:
☑ The layout made sense
☑ The tree canopy offered dappled shade
☑ The slope drained well
☑ The water access was close
The setup was right. My muscles were just catching up.
I stood, stretched, and gave myself permission to slow down.
Midday: A Shift in Plans
I adjusted my goal. Instead of finishing all four panels, I’d set the corners and prep the rest tomorrow.
With that in mind, I got the first panel attached—zip ties to hold it in place, then wrapped with baling wire and reinforced at the bottom. It felt solid. Secure.
The goats watched me from a distance like they were rating my technique.
Then, as if on cue, the clouds burned off and the sun came full force. I was dripping before I even reached the second panel.
Rather than push through and risk heat exhaustion or a bad decision with a T-post driver, I called it. I hauled the rest of the materials back to the barn and shifted gears.
Sometimes, homesteading is about pivoting with grace.
Garden Glance and Tomato Dreams
Before heading inside, I took a quick walk through the garden.
The back bed where I added compost two days ago is still warm to the touch. Perfect for the tomatoes I’ll plant in two weeks.
The carrots under the new row covers are finally peeking up—tiny green threads, like shy thoughts just starting to speak.
The spinach the goats tried to decimate? Coming back with a vengeance. Nature forgives more easily than I do, it seems.
I stood there, dirty and exhausted, and suddenly got a second wind just imagining how it’ll all look in June—lush, buzzing, abundant.
That’s the fuel I needed.
Supper and Stillness
I didn’t feel like cooking, so I went simple:
- Cheese and herb omelet
- A handful of garden greens with oil and vinegar
- Crackers and fig jam from the back of the pantry
I ate out back on the porch, watching the first stars blink on, listening to the frogs tune up in the distance.
The chicks were quiet. The goats were finally settled. And I could feel every muscle from my neck to my calves.
But it was the good kind of sore. The kind that reminds you that you did something real.
Final Thoughts
This day was not tidy. Not clean. Not “productive” in the checkbox sense.
But it was forward.
I started the pig pen. I made the kind of mess that says this is happening. I wore myself out on a job that matters.
I didn’t finish. And that’s okay.
This life doesn’t need perfect days. It just needs presence. And effort. And the humility to know when to pause, pivot, and pick it up again tomorrow.
And I will.
Until then—
Amanda @ Wister Creek