I’ve been doing a lot of weeding lately, but not the kind you’re probably thinking of.
Sure, I’ve been out there in the garden pulling pigweed and lamb’s quarters like any self-respecting homesteader, cursing at the Canada thistle that seems to multiply faster than rabbits in springtime. But the weeding I’m talking about goes way deeper than what’s growing between my tomato plants.
I’m talking about weeding out the stuff that’s cluttering up my life, my schedule, and my brain space like tumbleweeds in a windstorm.
You know what I mean…all those things that seemed like a good idea at the time but now just sit there taking up space, sucking energy, and generally making life more complicated than a cow trying to use a smartphone.
There are two main categories of weeds that need pulling in life, and I’ll be switched if they don’t require completely different approaches.
The first are the things that are forgotten.
These are the weeds that snuck in when we weren’t paying attention, like volunteer tomatoes that pop up in the compost pile. They’re not necessarily bad, but they’re not adding anything useful to the garden either.
Subscriptions
Lord have mercy, the subscriptions! I swear these things multiply in the dark corners of our bank statements like mice in a grain bin. That magazine subscription you signed up for three years ago and haven’t read since? The streaming service you forgot you had because you only used the free trial? The premium version of some app that seemed essential at the time but now you can’t even remember what it does?
Time to grab your digital hoe and start chopping, folks. I went through our credit card statements last month like a detective on a case, and I found subscriptions to things I couldn’t even pronounce, let alone remember signing up for. Cancelled them faster than you can say “automatic renewal.”
Animals
Now hold your horses before you get your feathers ruffled—I’m not saying get rid of your animals willy-nilly. But sometimes we end up with critters that don’t fit our current situation anymore, like keeping roosters when you’ve got neighbours closer than shouting distance, or hanging onto that ornery goat that’s more trouble than a porcupine in a balloon factory.
I had to make some tough decisions about our livestock this year. That pretty little hen that never laid an egg? She got a one-way ticket to freezer camp. The goats that required more maintenance than a Hollywood starlet? Found them a new home where someone had more patience than I do.
Clutter
Every homesteader I know has at least one barn, shed, or room that’s become a dumping ground for “stuff that might be useful someday.” You know, like that pile of fence posts from 1987, or the collection of rusty tools that someone might fix eventually, or the 47 empty feed sacks you’re saving for… something.
I spent a whole weekend going through our shop like a woman possessed, sorting things into three piles: keep, donate, and burn. (Okay, maybe not burn, but you get the idea.) It felt better than a good thunderstorm on a hot day.
It’s the second category that requires the most heavy lifting: the things we need to question.
These are the established plants in our life garden—things that are supposed to be there, that serve a purpose, but maybe need some serious evaluation about whether they’re still pulling their weight.
Question #1: What if I pivot?
Sometimes we keep doing things the same way because that’s how we’ve always done them, not because it’s the best way. Like continuing to raise chickens in a coop that’s in the worst possible location just because that’s where great-grandpa built it in 1952.
I’ve been asking myself this question about everything from our garden layout to our daily routines. What if I moved the tomatoes to get more sun? What if I milked the cow at a different time? What if I completely changed how we handle our morning chores?
Some of these pivots have been small, like rearranging the layout of our mudroom. Others have been bigger, like deciding to focus more on beef cattle and less on dairy. But every single change has made life run smoother than butter on a hot skillet.
Question #2: “How could we improve our routines?”
Routines are supposed to make life easier, not feel like you’re stuck in quicksand. But somehow, we often end up with routines that are about as efficient as a screen door on a submarine.
I took a hard look at our morning and evening chores and realized I was walking back and forth across the barnyard like a chicken with its head cut off. By simply changing the order of operations and planning my route better, I cut our chore time nearly in half.
Same with our weekly rhythm. We used to run to town every other day for this and that, burning gas and time like we had money trees growing in the backyard. Now we batch all our errands into one day and actually enjoy the trip instead of feeling frazzled.
Question #3: “How could I make this more efficient?”
This is where the rubber meets the road, folks. It’s one thing to identify problems, but it’s another thing entirely to actually solve them.
I started looking at everything through the lens of efficiency—not just speed, but overall effectiveness. Sometimes efficient means slower but more thorough. Sometimes it means investing time upfront to save time later.
For example, I spent a whole day organizing our tool shed so everything has a proper place. Now instead of spending twenty minutes looking for the right wrench, I can find it in twenty seconds. That’s efficiency that pays dividends every single day.
Here’s the thing about weeding—whether it’s in the garden or in life:
You can’t do it once and call it good. Weeds keep coming back, and new ones appear when you’re not looking. The secret is staying on top of it regularly so it never gets overwhelming.
I’ve started doing a life-weeding session every quarter, just like I do my garden weeding. I go through subscriptions, evaluate our routines, and ask those hard questions about what’s working and what’s not.
It’s not always fun—nobody enjoys cancelling subscriptions or admitting that your current system isn’t working. But the freedom and clarity that comes afterward? That’s worth more than a prize bull at the county fair.
So grab your metaphorical hoe and start weeding. Your future self will thank you when your life is as clean and productive as a well-tended garden.
Just don’t forget to celebrate the good stuff you’re keeping. After all, a garden isn’t just about what you pull out—it’s about what you choose to cultivate.
Happy weeding, y’all!
