September feels a little different on the farm.
There is still plenty to do, but the frantic push of summer is beginning to ease. The garden is winding down, beans are maturing, food is still being preserved, and we are starting to think about breeding the does for spring kidding. We also need to finish the new chicken coop and move the flock before cold weather settles in. Those are the obvious September farm chores. But this time of year also gives me something summer rarely does: enough room to look back and ask what actually worked.
And, maybe more importantly, what didn’t.
Sometimes success still needs improving

Sourdough is a good example.
I started my own starter in March 2025, and I have kept it going ever since. Over time, I have gotten to where I make most of our baked goods when time allows. I love the flavor, I enjoy the process, and now I am even using our own goat milk and chèvre in the kitchen.

The cinnamon swirl sourdough in the photo, topped with our chèvre, feels like a pretty good representation of how far that has come.

But successful does not necessarily mean efficient.

Making one loaf here and another batch there takes time, and sometimes we still run out before I can bake again. So I have been experimenting with making several loaves at once and freezing the extras. It has worked so well that I am changing my routine. One baking day might be several cinnamon swirl loaves. The next time, I can concentrate on something completely different.

Same homemade food. Less scrambling.
That is the kind of lesson I want to carry into the rest of the farm.

The garden gives its own report card

Tomatoes are another good example. We had tomatoes for salads, sandwiches, and dinners, and we absolutely enjoyed them. Those varieties earned their place in next year’s garden.

Roma tomatoes were another story.
I wanted enough for sauce, but the plants struggled and never produced anywhere near what I would need for canning. So one question for next year is whether it makes sense to devote precious garden space and effort to sauce tomatoes, or simply buy North Carolina-grown Romas when they are in season and concentrate on growing the tomatoes we enjoy fresh.

That is not really a loss. It is useful information.
The same assessment will happen with beans, other vegetables, preservation methods, animal routines, and probably quite a few things I have not thought of yet.

Following the farm’s calendar

That may be my favorite part of early fall.
The physical work begins to slow just enough that we can enjoy some of what all that labor produced. At the same time, we can look at the season with clearer eyes and start building a better plan for the next one.
There is something almost stubbornly old-fashioned about that.

We live in a world that makes instant results feel normal. Farming does not cooperate. You make decisions now for food months from now. You breed a doe this fall hoping for healthy kids and milk next spring. You save seeds from this garden for one that does not exist yet.

Even our September farm chores sit somewhere between the season that is ending and the one we are preparing for. So right now, I am finishing, preserving, adjusting, and taking notes.

Because sometimes slowing down enough to notice what the season taught you is part of the work too.

There are mornings when the four-wheeler looks less like farm equipment and more like the supply cart for a very demanding zoo exhibit.

The front rack carries jugs of water. Meanwhile, the back basket might hold hay, buckets, the milk cooler, feed, and freshly chopped zucchini for the goats and chickens. Somehow, everyone at The Tart Farm has a breakfast order.
However, the four-wheeler represents more than convenience. It has become an important part of making our homestead sustainable as we get older.

When the Wheelbarrow Did All the Work

Two years ago, I didn’t have a four-wheeler. Everything that needed to reach the goat barn and chicken coop went down our steeply sloped driveway in a wheelbarrow. That included feed, hay, water, tools, and anything else needed for morning or evening chores. Going downhill with a loaded wheelbarrow requires plenty of control. Of course, whatever goes down also means another trip back up. At the time, I simply did it because that was how the chores got done.
Still, homesteading has a wonderful way of teaching you where you need better systems.

Working Smarter Around the Farm

Eventually, the four-wheeler changed the entire routine. Instead of balancing multiple loads in a wheelbarrow, I can load everything at once and drive it down. Now we are taking another step forward.

When my sister and brother-in-law visited recently, my brother-in-law installed gutters on the goat barn. They will help direct rainwater away from the barn and improve drainage around an area that can become very wet. My sister has since bought me a rain barrel, and Rick is getting ready to finish the system by connecting it to those gutters.

The barrel will do double duty. In addition to helping manage rainwater, it will give me a water source right beside the goat barn. We also plan to add a heater so the water won’t freeze during the winter. That means fewer jugs of water loaded onto the four-wheeler and fewer trips from the house, even when the temperature drops.

Building a Farm We Can Keep Enjoying

We are getting closer to our sixties, and I think about that when we plan projects now. The goal isn’t to eliminate physical work. Farm life will always involve lifting, carrying, walking, cleaning, fixing, and occasionally chasing something that has absolutely no intention of being caught. Instead, making our homestead sustainable means looking at repetitive jobs and asking, “How can we make this easier on our bodies five or ten years from now?”

A four-wheeler helped.
The gutters and rain barrel will help.
And I suspect our farm will keep evolving one practical little improvement at a time.

Preferably before the goats add anything else to their breakfast order.