A while back I read a book recommended by my sister called The Comfort Crisis by Michael Easter, and it stuck with me. Not because it convinced us to change everything overnight, but because it put words around something we were already starting to notice.

Before moving out here, life was good. Honestly, it still is. I have the same career today that I had before we started this journey, and I’m thankful for it. We weren’t running away from anything, trying to disappear into the woods, or looking to reject the modern world. We had a good home, a family, and all the conveniences that generations before us worked hard to create.

But there was a pattern we started to notice.

After work was done and dinner was made, the evenings became pretty predictable. Sit down on the couch, turn something on, and relax. Maybe it was Netflix. Maybe it was YouTube. Maybe it was scrolling through our phones. Maybe it was walking into the kitchen looking for something to snack on, not because we were actually hungry, but because it was there.

There was nothing wrong with any of those things. We still watch shows. We still use technology. We still enjoy all the benefits of living in 2026. But somewhere along the way, we realized a lot of our free time was spent consuming things instead of creating, learning, or doing.

Then we moved onto 15 acres.

Anyone who owns land or animals probably knows what happened next. The land did not care about our old routine.

The animals needed fed whether we felt like going outside or not. The Gallagher electric fence netting needed moved whether it was convenient or not. Projects needed finished, problems needed solved, and more than once we found ourselves standing outside saying, “Well, how are we going to figure this one out?”

The funny thing is, those moments that sounded inconvenient ended up becoming some of the most rewarding parts.

When we first started, a lot of things were new to us. We didn’t grow up doing all of this. We made mistakes, learned lessons the hard way, watched videos, asked questions, and slowly figured things out one project at a time.

Some evenings that used to be spent watching someone else build something, became evenings where we were the ones trying to build something. Some weekends that used to disappear became weekends where we could point at a finished project, laugh about everything that went wrong along the way, and say, “Well, somehow that actually worked.”

Somewhere along the way, we started changing too.

Not overnight, and not because country living has some magical secret. It doesn’t. There are plenty of frustrating days, muddy days, exhausting days, and days where an animal decides to remind you that you are definitely not in charge.

But our normal changed.

Movement wasn’t something we had to schedule anymore. It was just part of life. Walking the property, carrying feed, hauling water, working outside, building, repairing, and taking care of animals became normal.

Over time, those little changes added up. We became healthier. We became stronger. In our case, we even reached a point where medications we thought might always be part of our lives were no longer needed.

That doesn’t happen for everyone, and everyone’s story is different. But for us, changing our environment slowly changed the little decisions we made every day.

The funny part is we still enjoy all the comforts we had before. The TV is still there. The phones still work. Amazon still manages to find our driveway (but via UPS). After a hot August day moving fence or working outside, I promise you the air conditioning feels pretty amazing.

The difference is what happens before that.

A quiet evening on the couch feels a little different after you spent the day outside. A meal tastes a little different when you remember carrying feed bags, breaking ice in the winter, or laughing because the animals once again did something you never expected.

I think about Coconut and Reese, our first pigs, quite a bit with this.

For almost two years they were part of our daily routine. Rain, snow, busy work schedules, it didn’t matter. There was always something that needed done. At times it was inconvenient. Sometimes very inconvenient.

But now there is bacon in the freezer that has an entire story attached to it. A story about bringing them home. Learning as we went. Watching them enjoy fresh grass, sunshine, and a good life. Wondering if we were doing things right. Realizing that two little pigs had quietly become part of almost every day for nearly two years.

And maybe that’s the biggest change since we started. We still consume things. We still watch shows. We still enjoy modern life. The family just spend a lot more time creating the stories we’ll talk about later.