As a simple farmer in 17th century Ukraine, I am a serf. A tenant farmer, beholden to the local noble who lives in the manor.  If I had some martial skill, I might have risen up and rebelled with the Cossacks and become free.  Instead, my family and I continue to eek out a meager living on the lord's land.  Our plot is ours to farm, passed down for many generations, yet we do not own it.  Some here must even share their plot with their neighbor.  The lord owns all the farmable land in his territory, and much of the other land, such as the forest.  We cannot even hunt in the forest, that is a crime and a brutal punishment for anyone without permission of the lord, though we are allowed to take any dead wood we find there for firewood or construction.  What we grow on this plot is ours, at least, but much of it goes to taxes.  

In summer, we awaken early, as the sun rises earlier this time of year, and there is much to do.  Nothing can be done in the fields before dawn, but there are animals to milk, so my wife and I, and the older children, get up before dawn.  It's also the only way to get a good breakfast some days, as each tenant's household must provide our lord with four days per week of labor, for our right to plow our own plot, and that starts at dawn on those days.  It is my job to go to the manor house those four days per week, since it is usually man's work, mending fences if I am lucky this week,  but sometimes digging in the mine or repairing the road.  I hope as my oldest son becomes stronger and wiser, he will be able to go in my place soon.  He will need to learn it, if he is to inherit our tenancy someday, and I look forward to having more days at home.  Not that home is any less work, I must still tend our own fields on the days I am home, and my wife and sons manage what they can of it the other four days.  Even our daughters work hard, preparing meals, tidying, tending the animals and the garden. Especially my eldest daughter, she hopes our garden can produce more this year, so we can eat less of our grain crop.  She won't be able to get permission from the lord to get married to the boy in the next town she likes until we have enough surplus grain, as a woman marrying outside the lord's domain must pay a tax for her lost labor.  

At dusk, much later in the summer, I head home for dinner, and we try to get in bed early to save on lamp oil and candles.  Still, the longest days are not summer, but planting and harvest seasons.  Those times are the hardest, as we must all work the lord's fields before our own.  And every day we waste, is less time to harvest or plant our own field.  If we're too late to finish the lord's harvest, we lose a lot of our own crops to rot.  If we're late to plant, our crops have less time to grow and are smaller.  At least the time goes quickly, as all our neighbors must harvest the lord's fields with us.  And the lord does provide all our meals while his own fields are being reaped or sown, which is a big help (even if it's only to prevent another peasant rebellion).    

In winter here, it's much the same, but bitterly cold.  At least we start the day later and end earlier, with the waning winter sun.  Often my wife goes to satisfy the lord's four-days-a-week this season, as there is little for me to do, the lord's fields and roads snowed over, but much cooking and cleaning and sewing to do for the manor, especially as Christmas approaches.  The only time I go is when the forest is opened for chopping firewood or hunting (the lord requires a goose or pheasant from every household each Christmas, some bring back a boar, and it is the only time we are allowed to hunt in his forest).  The rest of our time on a winter's day is taking up keeping warm, tending to the animals and the fireplace, and indoor tasks such as mending clothes and tools.  

Its a hard life, but there's no point in worrying about it, though.  No serf can leave without the lord's permission, and few probably would ask, considering we hear many of the other fiefdoms have far more cruel nobles.  Leaving to join the Cossacks is even more out of the question, as no lord would give permission to leave to go south and join them.  And sneaking off to join the Cossacks, even if not caught and punished, would be joining a nomadic life of strife and war.  Free, yes, but few here are willing or skilled enough to fight.  Still, I wonder how my sons will manage someday, the lord has taken more and more tenant land for his own fields since my grandfather's time, and more days labor and more taxes, too.  My eldest son will have to pay the feudal relief tax to inherit my tenancy, which I hope we have good years to continue saving up for, so my wife can stay here with him when I am gone.  My other sons, though, will have to settle for much smaller lands, if they're lucky, or become itinerant peasants, migrating, looking for work.  We have occasionally hired such peasants ourselves, though we've never made enough to hire one regularly.  I hope instead maybe when my younger sons are old enough they will take the days at the manor house that might earn them experience and a job there as servants, or even learn skills that might enable them to become merchants or tradesmen some day.  But it's just a hope.  More than anything I just pray they won't have to go to war, either for or against the Cossacks or other uprising.
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