We all know farm work makes you stronger. It reveals you. There’s gym strong, and there’s farm strong, and they are not the same. The toughest women you’ll ever meet spend their days on a farm. There are grown men who can’t keep up with gramma on the farm – can’t move as many bags of feed, pull as many weeds, move as many t-posts, can’t keep going hour after hour, day after day.
There are more uses for baling string than you can possibly imagine. You can tie up a hole in a slow feed net, fix a leaning pipe panel, make a tail strap for a horse’s blanket, drag a failing newborn critter on a cobbled together sled, keep a door shut, keep a door open, use it as a belt, basically keep an entire barn together with it.
“Well, that didn’t go as planned.” may not be your mantra, but you will repeat it many times a day. Control is a complete illusion. The thought that you have any, 
at any time, is utterly false. Sleep is a luxury. Most days, so are lunch and dinner. And brushing your hair.
When that overly full wheelbarrow of horse manure tips over sideways, you will find abdominal muscles not documented in medical texts trying to keep it upright. You will, regardless, end up underneath the manure.
When one of your animals is sick or hurt, you will go to heroic lengths to minimize their discomfort and get them healed. Their needs come first. 
Every animal on your farm will eat before you do. Every rainy morning. Every snowy evening. When you lose one of them, you will ache with a deep sadness, even though you know it is inevitable. It’s a heaviness that lingers, hurts fully from head to toe, but you will regroup and press on.
You will remain present, no matter what. There is no other option. You will live in the moment with an eye toward the future. And you will find delight in life.
You will develop an acute awareness of daylight hours. You will be able to tell time to the minute by the sun. You’ll find yourself saying, while gazing off at some non specific point in the sky, “We got about an hour of daylight left to git ‘er done,” to no one in particular before you head out to try and squeeze 3 hours of chores into an hour of light.
You will cry a lot. But you will never live more fully.