Spring has well and truly arrived at Sage Hearth, and it hasn’t come quietly.

The mix of warmth and rain has sent everything racing skyward — grasses stretching fast, weeds bolting almost overnight, green pressing in from every direction. The land doesn’t ease into spring; it surges, and suddenly there’s a lot to keep up with.

The past few weeks have been spent answering that growth with steady, practical work. Ben has been out cutting paths through stubborn wireweed at the edge of the hay paddock, reclaiming the orchard tree by tree, and topping the goats’ paddock so the grass stays fresh, sweet, and good for them. It’s hard, dusty work — the kind that leaves arms aching and boots coated in green — but there’s deep satisfaction in watching order slowly return.

It always amuses me how Ben seems to inherit the heaviest tasks. Entirely coincidental, of course. Spring has a way of revealing who’s needed where, and out here, everyone plays their part.

This is the rhythm of the season: slow progress, sore muscles, and a landscape that refuses to be ignored. Nothing about it is rushed, even when it’s full-on. The work pulls us back into the present, reminding us that tending land is as much about patience as it is effort.

The homestead feels alive in these moments — buzzing, growing, asking to be cared for. And while the days end with tired bodies, they also end with the quiet knowing that this is exactly where we’re meant to be.

Slow living doesn’t mean less work. It means meaningful work, done in step with the season — and spring, in all its wild abundance, always has plenty to say.

Location: Taupō, New Zealand

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