EC Blog: A Few Polished Seconds by Nicole Ross
AdobeStock images.
Everyone says they want a farm or to live the cowboy lifestyle.
The kind Facebook and Instagram sell you.
Rolling green fields, spotless coops, egg baskets lined up just right, weed-free gardens, beautiful happy horses and a slow, dreamy life.
But that version is the highlight reel, friends.
A lot of days look like sloshing through mud just to feed everyone, fixing horse shelters in the middle of a storm, fixing fences that never stay fixed, chasing cows when they ruin fencing, and walking through fields full of weeds while watching every step, hoping you don’t cross paths with a rattlesnake.
And then there are those days.
The kind that sit heavy in your chest before they even begin.
The walk you never get used to.
The moment you realize you can’t fix it.
That you can’t save that dog the kids have grown up with.
The walk to the top of the hill to put that horse down that all the money in the world couldn’t heal.
No one talks about holding the dogs back on the porch, waiting in silence for the sound you know is coming. Knowing a life is about to end—and knowing it has to—because letting her suffer isn’t an option.
And no one talks about the other kind of heartbreak either.
Raising animals for meat.
Picking them out as adorable babies.
Watching them grow.
Naming them.
Knowing their personalities, their habits, their favorite spots in the pasture—while also knowing, from the very beginning, what their purpose is.
You remember how excited the kids were bringing them home as babies.
Hand feeding them.
How bonded the livestock dogs get to them.
The way they’d poke their heads through the fence when you get close to their pen.
These animals aren’t just livestock.
They’re time, work, love, memories.
They are part of your family, even when the end was always written in the plan.
This life is good.
It’s beautiful.
It’s grounding and meaningful.
But it also carries weight, grief, and responsibility—because every life here matters.
Most days aren’t aesthetic.
Most moments aren’t shareable.
And some days end not with a sunset photo—but with tears, silence, and a goodbye.
So if you want a farm because an influencer makes it look magical, just remember: what you see is a few polished seconds.
What you don’t see is the mud, the loss, the hard choices—and the strength it takes to love something fully, even when you’re the one who has to let it go.
By Nicole Ross, R n R Ranch LLC
Thank you to Nicole Ross for allowing us to share these precious words that very much hit home.
If you have a blog to submit for consideration, please email us: Delores.Kuhlwein@EquineChronicle.com.
