the aging smallholder

I shall be 61 in March. I forget sometimes that I am getting old. In my mind, I'm still 40. In reality, I am getting old, things hurt, I'm not as strong as I was and I have bad lungs. The bad lungs means that in winter, I try to stay indoors, out of the cold and damp which affect them. It's impossible to be active in any way if you cannot get enough oxygen into you.

I am planning the straw bale garden that I intend to try out this year. I'm no longer able to dig you see, nor bend, and as I get older, if I wish to continue to live the way I do, I need to find ways to carry on, but in a way that I can do so, even with my health issues.
So I have been reading seed catalogues, planning what to grow and dreaming. The only trouble is that I dream big. I want to swap things about on my land. Currently, my chickens have more space than they need, and where I am growing things in containers and have sat the little polytunnel, is on the concrete base of the old aviary block which is now mostly demolished. That would be perfect for the chickens, it being dry underfoot, and rats or foxes not being able to dig under. All I need to do is move the big Heras fence panels to surround the concrete, then site a new shed for them, then shift the polytunnel and containers over to the area currently used as the hen run. It's on the sunnier side of the land and would be perfect for the new garden.
Great plans. Except that I am physically not capable of doing it all.

I called some local gardening companies and it's not the sort of thing they do. I placed advert's for someone to come and work with me, offering above minimum wage, a couple of hours a week, with unlimited tea or coffee. I figured a young person who wanted to make a bit of pocket money, or a fit pensioner, might be interested. It seems not.

I called the probation people to see if I could get someone doing community service (I call it community cop out), because they once got me someone to help put plasterboard up. Oh no, I was told that it's too dangerous for them. It's cold outside, they might hurt themselves.

I have found a source for some cheap straw bales and this is just the right time to get them put into position, and I need to start thinking about planting up some seeds in plug trays in the heated growing place I have, but I can't do anything by myself.

Is it really  time for me to stop living and be an old lady, eating biscuits all day and knitting and marking time until I can step into my shroud? I bloody well hope not. There's a bit more life in this old dear yet.

 The current hen run is on the far right. You can just see a tiny corner of it. This photo of the concrete base was taken as the aviary block was under construction. The front flights have all been demolished. What remains is the corrugated plastic roof to the left of this photo. I was thinking about leaving it there as shelter.
The hen run is approximately 20 feet by around 55 feet and I have a dozen hens, so it seems like swapping things about would be sensible.

Did I mention that growing old sucks, big time?