Fall Farm Routine: Barn Build, Horses and Overcommitment

Yoga teacher Kassandra Reinhardt, who posts as Yoga with Kassandra, spends a cool September morning on her property doing what most of her audience never sees: letting chickens out, checking on horses, and walking through a barn that is still missing its power, its water and its garage door. Her "Fall on the Farm" vlog, filmed on September 22 and published at the end of the month, is less a yoga video than a field report from a life in the middle of a build. It shows the mechanics of keeping animals healthy through a season of construction, and it is candid about the cost of saying yes to too much. Reinhardt calls the season chaotic, calls it her dream life, and admits that the overwhelm is largely her own doing.

What does a fall farm morning look like on a yoga teacher's property?

The video opens on a simple cue: "Good morning. It's September 22nd." Reinhardt has already had her coffee ("I always start that way") and heads straight to the coop. Her flock numbers 13 chickens now, and she lets them roam in the morning only. The timing is deliberate. "They know right now is their scheduled outdoor time," she explains, and the hour is also the window she has while she does chores. The predators she describes are the reason for the discipline. "We have a lot of coyotes, a lot of hawks, um a lot of raccoons, so I'm always a little hesitant when I let them out."

Recall training matters in that setup. Reinhardt says the birds are all trained to come back, and that some mornings go better than others. At the end of the hour she calls them in and they return. The routine has a rhythm that a long-time student of structured practice will recognize: a fixed beginning, a fixed container, a fixed close. It is not glamorous, but it is what keeps the flock safe while she works.

Why do silkie chickens keep going broody?

Reinhardt's silkies are the comic center of the chicken segment. One of them, she reports, is missing from the group, and the reason is familiar to anyone who keeps the breed. "One thing about silkies is they go broody all the time." Broodiness, she explains, "just means that she wants to hatch some eggs." That instinct is strong even when the hen has nothing to sit on. She notes with clear exasperation that the bird is "not even sitting on any eggs" and that there is "nothing in there." Her plan is patient and a little resigned: separate the hen from the others, reroute her attention, and try to break the cycle. "It's very annoying. They're very cute," she says, "but they do drive me a little bit crazy with that."

The moment is a useful reminder that small animal care is mostly observation. You notice the noise is wrong, you check the bird, you adjust. Reinhardt does this without ceremony, and that unshowy attention runs through the whole vlog.

What is a grazing muzzle, and why does a horse need one?

The horses are where the video gets specific about husbandry. Her mare Cinnamon wears a grazing muzzle, a common tool that limits how much grass a horse can eat. Reinhardt's reasoning is direct: grass carries a lot of sugar, and Cinnamon needs to be kept from getting too much of it. She compares the condition to a human one, saying it is "almost like the equivalent of human diabetes." So Cinnamon is turned out for a few blades at a time. "It's worth it for them," Reinhardt says of the arrangement, and you hear in her voice that she has thought about the tradeoff.

That tradeoff shapes the new paddock design. Reinhardt has fenced off small tree islands with no-climb mesh, partly because she knows Cinnamon would plow through the grass if she had access to it. She also worries about ticks in those areas. The solution is a protected paddock system that keeps grazing controlled while giving the herd more room to move. It is a clear example of animal care being built into the physical space rather than managed by hand every hour.

Who are the horses, and what does it mean to care for one you don't own?

Reinhardt is careful about ownership. Her horse Wednesday, whom she describes as "my least horse," is not hers. She has cared for her for "a year and a halfish," and she says plainly that she would love to keep her forever. "I hope the owners will sell her to me, but at this point, they do not want to sell her, which is fine," she says. "She's their horse. I'm happy to care for her and give her the best life possible that I can." That sentence carries a whole ethic: devotion without possession, and a willingness to let someone else's decision stand.

Wednesday came to the farm for a practical reason. Reinhardt had been boarding her, but Wednesday had been lame all year, so Reinhardt brought her home and paired her with Cinnamon. The two, she says, "hit it off."

The newest arrival is Dakota, a four-year-old that Reinhardt has had for only three weeks. "She's half paint, half thoroughbred. Her mom was a thoroughbred. Her dad was a paint." Reinhardt says she came from Vermont, where she was being started at an eventing barn. The decision to bring Dakota home followed the loss of a horse Reinhardt had loved, and she describes the choice as wanting her own project: "my own little baby." It is a tender admission, and it sits right next to a logistical problem. A young horse who is being started needs time, attention and a safe place to be, and the barn that is supposed to provide that place is not yet finished.

How does a barn build set a whole farm back?

The construction is the spine of the video. Reinhardt walks through a three-stall barn with a wash bay and a combined feed and tack room, and she is generous toward the contractors. "I don't actually want to complain too much about my contractors because they made my vision come true," she says. "I'm extremely happy with it." Then she explains why the progress is frustrating. The electrical inspection is scheduled for the following day, and there is no power until it passes. There is no water until another step is complete, and the large trench for power and water lines cannot be filled until both are done.

That sequencing is the most instructive part of the vlog for anyone who has managed a project. Reinhardt sums it up: "if one thing is missing, it sets everyone back." Each stage depends on the one before it, and a single missing item halts the whole chain. The trench is a good image of that dependency. It is open, it is needed, and it cannot be closed yet.

Why does the track need stone instead of dirt?

Reinhardt's "pride and joy" is the track. It runs roughly 1,000 feet by her estimate, a loop where the horses can move freely. The ground underneath matters. She explains that the property sits on clay, which is slippery whenever it gets even a little wet, and "it's just very unsafe." So stone aggregate and stone dust will be laid over the soil before the track is used. The surfacing is not decoration. It is a safety decision made before the first hoof hits the loop.

The track also changes the chores. Reinhardt says she likes to pick up manure every day, and she plans to spread hay around the track. More room means more ground to maintain. The improvement is real and it is also more work, which is a theme the video keeps returning to.

What is the real cost of a dream life that feels like too much?

The most useful line in the vlog arrives in the written description rather than the footage. Reinhardt writes that the season is challenging but also "my dream life come true." She adds, "I don't take it for granted and I have only myself to blame when it comes to overwhelm." She names the cause: "It is my tendency to overcommit." Then she offers a wry line that anyone who has taken on too much will recognize: "One day I will learn, but not today!"

The vlog also explains what is on the plate. Alongside the barn build and the new horse, Reinhardt is working through a Masters program and keeping up with YouTube. She says she took a break from the channel because things had become too hectic, and she warns viewers that another short break may be necessary. She hopes the season will slow down over the fall and winter, though she does not promise it. That honesty is more useful than a tidy promise would be. A teacher who speaks plainly about overcommitting gives her audience permission to see their own pattern.

Where to go from here

If this vlog has you curious about the rhythm of animal care, the most practical lesson is to order the day around the animals and let the project fit around them. Reinhardt builds her morning around the chickens, the horses and their feed, and only then the rest of her work. For anyone who wants to take a similar approach to their own practice, her channel offers free weekly yoga classes and a set of free challenges, including a 30-day morning yoga and Pilates challenge, all listed in the video description. The footage itself is best watched once for the farm and once for the honesty: a woman running a dream and admitting it is also too much.