Some days on the homestead offer up a little mystery with your chores—and today was one of those days. Credit goes to our 17-year-old son, David, for spotting this unusual find. He was heading to refill the water for the rabbit colony. That was when he spotted something strange crawling along the metal rim of the water pan. At first glance, it looked like any other carpenter ant. But a closer look revealed a bizarre sight: this ant was carrying the decapitated head of another ant. But it wasn’t just balancing the head. The dead ant’s mandibles were clamped down tight—right around the live ant’s antenna. Whether it was the result of a fight, a freak accident, or something more territorial, we don’t know. But the live ant seemed entirely unbothered. She continued on with her unexpected headgear. The decapitated ant head bobbed along with every step. Nature doesn’t often hand you something so strange and fascinating. We’re glad David was in the right place at the right time. We captured several close-up shots of the event. Click through below if you want to see the full set. 🐜 A Closer Look: What Happened Here? The ant in our photo is a Carpenter Ant (Camponotus species), known for their size, strength, and territorial nature. The head attached to its antenna probably came from a smaller rival species, and what looks bizarre to us may have been a routine colony skirmish.What’s truly fascinating is that the dead ant’s mandibles are still locked onto the antenna. This happens because ant jaw muscles can remain clamped even after death—a bit of natural engineering that helps them defend themselves to the very end.It’s a rare and wild thing to witness up close, and a great reminder that even the smallest creatures are locked in battles we rarely see.👉 Learn more about Carpenter Ant behavior from the National Park Services. “But ask the beasts, and they will teach you; the birds of the heavens, and they will tell you; or the bushes of the earth, and they will teach you; and the fish of the sea will declare to you. Who among all these does not know that the hand of the Lord has done this? In his hand is the life of every living thing and the breath of all mankind.” -Job 12:7-10 (ESV)

Not Every Day Is a Good Day on the Homestead Life on the homestead is full of beauty, but it’s not without heartache. Some days are filled with harvests and hatching and hope. Others bring loss—and today was one of those days. Today we said goodbye to our sweet cat, Lamby. We brought Lamby home almost five years ago. He was just a tiny kitten alongside his mama, Kacie, and his two brothers, Jake and JJ. From the beginning, he was gentle and affectionate—the kind of cat who made you feel lucky to know him. Last year we lost our beloved Shade as well as Kacie. ow, grieving Lamby’s passing feels like turning the page on a chapter we weren’t ready to close. As homesteaders, we know raising animals means we will sometimes grieve. It’s a reality no one really gets used to, no matter how often it happens. But while some passings are quiet and expected, others leave a deeper ache. Lamby’s loss is one of the harder ones. He was more than just a cat—he was a part of the rhythm here. He was a soft pawprint on our daily lives. We’ll miss the way he curled up in odd corners. The calm presence he brought to even the busiest days. And the gentle nuzzles that reminded us to slow down and just be. Heartbreak and gratitude mingle in moments like this. We may be grieving, but we’re thankful. Thankful for the years we had, for the memories we carry, and for the love shared in between. Rest well, Lamby. You were deeply loved.

Today I harvested garlic—not from this year’s planting, which was very small and VERY late, but from a few stubborn bulbs that stayed behind last season when their stems snapped at harvest time. Last year’s garlic harvest went just fine overall, but a few stalks snapped as I pulled them, leaving their bulbs hidden below. I knew they were still in the ground and decided to leave them, hoping they’d bloom and set seed this year. But this morning, as I walked by that corner of the garden, I took a closer look. The leaves had begun to yellow, and the soil had started to crack ever so slightly around their bases. They were ready. And honestly? So was I. I needed garlic. So I dug in. There’s something incredibly grounding about putting your hands into the earth and feeling around for something you grew. That little bit of resistance as your fingers wrap around a bulb, the pop as it breaks free from the soil, the smell of fresh garlic and damp dirt rising together—it’s a kind of joy that’s hard to explain but easy to love. This harvest was small—just three bulbs—but it reminded me of the quiet beauty in growing your own food. Even when it’s unplanned. Even when it’s just a handful. These bulbs were left behind, half-forgotten, yet they grew anyway. Strong. Ready. Exactly when I needed them. Come October, I’ll be planting garlic again—this time intentionally, and in greater number. But for today, I’m grateful for these three unexpected gifts. A little harvest, a lot of heart. If you’re thinking about growing your own garlic, here’s a great guide to help you get started!