At 56, [Joyce Sutherland] is a thoroughly modern woman, in farming terms. Those 30 dribbling cows in the barn - they're waiting for her to milk them, and breed them, make up their beds and clean the stalls. Since her husband's serious accident in the barn left him disabled four years ago, Sutherland has taken on most of the farm chores - and she says they've never been happier.

The Sutherlands were city slickers with a hankering for land back in 1983 when they traded everything they had, their jobs as an accountant and nurse in Toronto, for a 96-acre farm with 26 milking cows. Friends said the Sutherlands had hit their "middle-age crazies." Joyce and Don say they hit the end of the rainbow - no traffic, no parking metres, friendly neighbors and ambience aplenty.

Up at 5 a.m., have a light breakfast, milk the cows, wash the milk tank by hand ("I was going to spend the money on the automatic washer but it uses too much water,") sweep the feed aisles, feed the cows (lugging 50-pound bales of hay) while her husband feeds the calves and heifers, put the cows outside, run the stable cleaner ("you're right in there, in the manure, both hands, both feet,") bed up the stalls with fresh straw, bring the cows back in, feed the calves, find some time in there somewhere to make lunch for her husband and eat, spend the afternoon with the hoof trimmer or with the vet doing the herd health check or artificial insemination (this is the part she enjoys most, she studied genetics at university) while Don looks after the workers hired to do the field work, do the laundry if there's time and run out for supplies since her husband can no longer drive. All this must be done by 5.30 p.m., in time to milk the cows again. And at midnight you'll find her feeding the cows again.