By choosing to live a homesteading lifestyle we have enriched our lives in so many ways. I couldn’t imagine raising my children any other way. So many valuable lessons are learned on a homestead.
Our family started homesteading in 2011 and we have never looked back. I don’t know if we really knew what we were getting into when we started but it’s been an amazing journey. It hasn’t always been easy and fun but it’s always been worth it.
Why the Homesteading Lifestyle is Awesome
Self-Sufficiency
One of the main reasons we started with the homesteading lifestyle was to provide our family with our own food. This makes us very self-sufficient.
When we are raising our own meats and vegetables, we can preserve food to last us all year. We don’t have to rely on the grocery store to provide the basic needs of our family. When a storm hits or the power goes out, we have the food, supplies, and skills needed to make it through. There’s no need to panic and flood the already crowded and quickly barren grocery shelves to try to get through a storm.
Knowing Where Your Food Comes From
As part of raising our own food, it is very important to us to know how it was raised or grown. We want to feed our family the cleanest and healthiest food possible and growing our own ensures that.
We know exactly what our animals have been fed and that they haven’t had any chemicals used on them. Our garden vegetables are grown in organic soil that is rich in nutrients. No chemical fertilizers or pesticides have been used on them giving us very clean and healthy produce.
Homesteading Skills
The skill set that you acquire as a homesteader is something that will continue to grow and benefit you for life. From animal husbandry, gardening, cutting firewood, building, cooking, preserving, butchering, the list goes on and on. Children are taught so many skills and important life lessons in this homesteading lifestyle. This sets them up to be successful in life no matter what they venture to do.
Work Ethic
If you don’t want to work hard and constantly, homesteading may not be the best choice for you. There is no end to chores that need to be done and projects that need working on. It’s a busy lifestyle with plenty of jobs to go around. We definitely know how to work hard but we also know how to play hard. The kind of satisfaction that comes from all of this hard work is like none other.
Life Cycle
This is one of the most beautiful and one of the hardest aspects of homesteading. The planting of seeds that brings new life to the garden, a promise of a harvest to come. The birth of a baby animal fills your heart with joy. These moments on the homestead are amongst the best. It’s something that’s so beautiful that words just don’t do it justice.
There’s also loss on the homestead that is always a hard lesson and sometimes heart wrenching. When your garden is growing and an animal gets in and destroys it all it’s beyond frustrating. To see all of your hard work and effort ruined is definitely not a good feeling. Losing a life on the homestead is always hard. Sometimes, it happens from a mistake you’ve made and sometimes there’s just nothing that could have prevented it. No matter how the loss occurs, there are always tears shed and heartbreak involved. As hard as it is, Life and death are all part of living on this earth and is something we all have to learn to deal with.
Connectedness
This is my favorite aspect of homesteading. The connection between me and my family, my friends, my animals, and to nature are all something that I treasure.
When our family works together all of the time and experiences every aspect of homesteading, we grow closer. We are brought together by the good times as well as the bad times.
We’ve also connected with others who have chosen this lifestyle. It’s so wonderful to have a community of people that are like minded and living a similar lifestyle as you. That’s something that is truly a blessing when the rest of the world thinks you’re a bit crazy for living like this.
The connections with the animals on our farm is also something that I enjoy. Sometimes, it’s nice to just sit and watch them all. The chickens are busy scratching the ground looking for tasty treats, the goats are quietly chewing their cud, the cows are grazing on the green grass, the horses switching their tails at flies, all of it reaches to the depths of my soul.
Growing our garden connects me to nature, I love the feel of the dirt between my fingers. When I plant a tiny seed knowing that it has the potential to provide for my family, I’m so excited and grateful.
When that seed begins to emerge and plant starts to grow, it is so satisfying. Once that plant produces fruits and I can harvest them to make a delicious meal for my family, when it comes full circle, I’m so connected with my land and creation.
All of these reason are the anchors in our lives to homesteading.
I’m grateful for having the opportunity to live on a homestead and raise my family here. I don’t know of any other life that allows one to live out their dream daily. Not everyday is easy and full of positive things but the good days always outweigh the bad ones.
The word “coronavirus” wasn’t even a common word until January/February of this year. In fact, a coronavirus can be something as simple as the common cold . . . but we don’t walk around calling it “the coronavirus”. Somehow, the recent pandemic has labeled COVID-19 as exactly this. Whatever it is, and whatever we call it, I think we should have a conversation about homesteading and “the coronavirus”.
I was recently contacted by a large media company asking me if I thought we would see an increase in homesteading and prepping due to the recent outbreak here in America. I thought it was an interesting topic to think and report about. Would a large outbreak cause people to consider a homesteading lifestyle? Or will they simply rush to the store in a panic, become temporary preppers, and once danger has passed, go through their stash of toilet paper and tuna fish without considering the next “crisis”?
I think you can guess which one it will be for many. But I want to tell you why I hope more people will embrace the homesteading lifestyle during, and after, this situation we’re seeing across the world in 2020. I want to tell you why it’s important to encourage it, not discourage it. And I also want to take a very real look at why homesteaders may be less likely to be affected by the virus––physically, mentally, and with food storage.
In February of this year my entire household contracted the flu. For the first time in our fourteen years of marriage, my husband and I had the flu. Fourteen years. We’ve never gotten the flu shot. We’ve never gotten the flu during that time. But, of course, we’ve taken precautionary measures to help reduce our, and our children’s, exposure to the flu during flu season. In fact, it looks a lot like how you reduce your exposure to COVID-19––wash your hands, carry hand sanitizer with you, don’t touch stuff in public unless you have to, stay home more often, and don’t let your kids lick the windows in the Chick-fil-a play area. It’s simple.
Now, I often got the flu as a child. Back then we didn’t get swabbed and told what kind of flu we had, though. We just told them our symptoms and they said, “you have the flu”. Did we always have the flu? Probably not. Science has come a long way since then. But I would say that six out of ten times, I for sure had it based on symptoms, incubation period, and duration.
Once, when I was 18-years old, I was hospitalized several days for a sickness no one could tell me about. The consensus? It was some weird, mutated flu strain and before I left the hospital they wanted to take about 10 vials of blood and multiple swabs before sending me on my way home. Back then I didn’t think anything about it. Hindsight is 20/20.
So, when our household got the flu in February, I won’t lie, it wasn’t fun. But it was nothing like I remember it being when I was a child or teenager. My husband and I were recently talking about it, and when I asked him why the severity of the flu didn’t seem as bad (and both of our children got it––one 8 months, one 10 years old), he had a great response.
He said, “it’s because we live a different lifestyle now than we did then.”
It’s true. Growing up, and in our younger adult years, we lived off of processed foods, take out, and sugar. I was often sick, and when I was sick I felt like death. While I didn’t feel amazing this time around, I didn’t feel like I couldn’t function for a long period of time either.
Our children eat the fruit of our labor. We purchase very little processed foods––only as treats. That doesn’t mean the 10 year old won’t climb into the cabinet and eat said treats all at one time. But it does mean we have a very limited exposure to processed foods on the average day. Sure, we eat out. But it’s not nearly as much as the rest of society. We grow our own food. Preserve our own food. Purchase mostly organic food from the grocery store and farmers market, and use very little (if any) chemical cleaners inside of our home. We utilize natural remedies. We haven’t had to take fever or pain reducers in over a decade (not counting the recent bout of flu, where we did). We literally had to go and purchase a fever reducer for the first time in many years when we got the flu this year. And the only reason we took that is because we had extremely high fevers that nothing was helping.
Homesteading & Coronavirus: The Impact of a Different Lifestyle
In fact, homesteader’s are generally healthier, more active, and more satisfied with their lifestyle than others. We eat better, sleep better, physically work harder, and are aware of our health more than the average person. Because of this, we always have an upper hand. And for many of us that have turned to homesteading, we’ve noticed an increase in good health and wellness.
Could it be that our homesteading lifestyle caused us to get over our symptoms more quickly, and to lessen the severity of the flu symptoms? Could it be that our homesteading lifestyle prepared us for the flu? Absolutely.
As a family herbalist I learned long ago that the first line of defense in your health regime is to live a healthy lifestyle. It’s not to take all the herbs every single day, or wash your hands every two hours. It’s to be in control of your food source. To cook from scratch. To have a stress free environment––not in the “everyone needs a safe space” kind of way, but in the way where you choose not to feel stressed on a regular basis by saying the right “yes” and the right “no” with your time. You choose to live a simple life. I don’t consider gardening and homesteading to fall into a stressful category. Hard work? Absolutely. Stressful? Not often.
Did you know that 2.8 million people die each year from obesity or obesity related health issues? 2.8 million every year. That’s far higher than the death rate of the flu or the recent coronavirus. But did you also know that these very same people could be at a higher risk?
Did you know that, according to the World Health Organization (WHO), you’re less likely to get sick if you are physically active (and that doesn’t mean walking on a treadmill), eat healthy foods, are mentally and emotionally stable, and conscious of your surroundings?
Do you know what makes me mentally and emotionally stable? Homesteading.
Do you know what makes me strive to be more physically fit and healthier? Homesteading.
Do you know what contributes to our emergency food storage? Homesteading.
Homesteading, Coronavirus, & Preparedness
We work hard, physically. Which creates a stronger body in the long run. It challenges the mind. It creates a lifestyle that my children enjoy. It teaches responsibility and good character. It creates a joy that I could’ve never imagined. The pride of working hard for something that feeds your family is astounding.
We have an appreciation for food storage, and often times our food storage looks like the eggs we collect each and everyday from a chicken coop. Food on tap, anyone? If we want to get technical, most homesteaders should have a year’s supply of food storage on hand at the end of each harvest season, if we’re trying to live a self-sufficient lifestyle. And that food storage should come right off of, and out of, the ground you raise it on and grow it in, or from utilizing local connections. We’re all on a journey, and whether you have a year’s worth or a week’s worth . . . I simply encourage you to make wiser decisions with your overall health. And, honestly, I think that’s why most of us are in this homesteading thing.
As I continue to read reports and watch the news (mostly news in other countries so that I get whole truths), I am aware, but I am not consumed.
I am aware that there is a pandemic happening. I am aware that there is a very real possibility that our communities could begin shutting down. I am aware that we could contract this virus by shaking hands, touching door knobs, and simply standing next to someone at the grocery store. I am aware that this could impact our family members who are older, or who have cancer and are on chemo. It’s no different than the flu. But the one thing I am not––I am not consumed by it.
They say that when the depression hit in 1929 that the people in communities that were homesteading never even knew about it. Partially because they were so poor that a homesteading lifestyle is all they knew. But also, because they were so self sufficient in their way of life that a stock market crash didn’t even effect them. Goals. Those are my goals. Are they realistic goals? Maybe not. But my goal as a homesteader is to be active in assembly and community, but also proactive in the daily life of my family, my homestead, and my life.
I have a pig, pastured poultry, and venison in my freezer. I have an abundance of canned items leftover from 2018 and 2019. I have emergency food storage. Not because I just run to the store to get it all (though we did stock up more), but because this is the life we live. Plain and simple.
We have herbal regiments that we take to boost our immune system. Not because of COVID-19, but because this is the homesteading lifestyle we live. We are already doing all the things that we should be doing, even before the panic erupted.
We aren’t scared of a virus. We’re already prepared for that mentally, physically, and with food storage simply because of the lifestyle we live.
Because homesteading isn’t just about gardening and livestock. It’s about being aware, but not consumed. It’s about living a lifestyle detached from a corrupt food and pharmaceutical system. It’s about taking responsibility for your life and your family’s lives. Because after all, our lives are our own responsibility. And we’re worth it.
The Growing Homesteading Movement After Coronavirus
It does sadden me, however, for the people not living this lifestyle. And that’s why I hope, as a homesteader, that you encourage others to homestead long term during and after this time. That their eyes won’t just be opened for a fleeting moment, but for a lifetime. Check out what a local homesteader had to say about her decision to homestead.
We turned to homesteading after 9/11. That morning, I was sitting in traffic on 395 and saw the plane crash into the Pentagon. It was life-changing. Later that year, we decided we no longer wanted (nor needed) city-living. We began our search for the perfect country home and eventually moved to the Northern VA countryside in 2003. After having worked in national politics and for a US Senator, I stopped commuting to DC and worked locally in Marshall. Within a few years and after lots of farmhouse soapmaking, I started my company (now 10 years into it). Former DC suburbanites, we now grow our own herbs and veggies, keep bees & chickens and support local farmers. I can’t imagine ever going back to our old life. What we have now is real and pure… and truly gratifying.
––Cindy Lawson DeVore
When I asked the question on my personal Facebook page if people thought more people would turn to homesteading because of the current pandemic, there were mixed feelings. The most common one, however, was, “no, not unless they already felt the nudge to homestead.” But we know now that, more often than we think, there is an instinct instilled inside of us already that nudges us to a simpler homesteading life. It’s why we get concerned about our food when crises happen. It’s why we take vacations to countrysides and gawk over beautiful gardens. It’s why people buy pastured chickens and pigs instead of growing it themselves.
I made a post on social media this week about the importance of having emergency food storage. I was surprised by the amount of people who said I was furthering the hype and fear mongering. Someone asked me why I was afraid of coronavirus. My response, “I’m not afraid of contracting the virus. I’m concerned about the people who don’t know how to live a self-sufficient lifestyle when a crisis like this heightens. I’m concerned about communities shutting down.”
The people who will flood the streets because of the hype. The people who will suddenly get serious about their food only to find that there’s none left. Then where do they go? You want to see panic? You’ll see it if that happens. That’s not fear, that’s just truth. We see it time and time again in natural disasters. And this is the importance of living a life where it doesn’t affect you, because you were prepared before it even happened.
Prepared not just with food and natural remedies. But prepared by living a lifestyle that physically, mentally, and emotionally edifies you. That enriches your soul. That gives you a better quality of life.
Doesn’t that sound amazing? Why aren’t we sharing about it more? In the midst of a chaotic situation, could we all promise to share about our lifestyle? And then, could we all promise to teach others how to live it? Not in a stuck up way that says, “I’m better because I’m more prepared.” But in a way that says, “Hey, I know where you are and how you feel, let me show you a better way.”
There are people within our own organization that are feeling the direct impacts of the virus outbreak in the state of Washington. As homesteaders, they are prepared. But what we don’t ever consider is the mental and emotional exhaustion that happens as you watch your surrounding community completely shut down around you. People in a panic. People not making eye contact with you because they are concerned you’ll sneeze on them or talk to them. This is a reality that’s happening in our own country. It’s real. This is what preppers have been prepping for over the last four or more decades.
Even here in Virginia, you can’t find a bottle of hand sanitizer within a forty-mile radius of my current location.
But here’s what I hope we’ll do . . .
I hope we’ll see that our homesteading lifestyle is a gift. You have been given a gift of sight to see that this lifestyle is a truly amazing, and necessary lifestyle. If not for your good health and sanity, but for the mere fact that you’ll never experience the fear of not being able to know life skills. Do you realize that more fear in people probably stems from not understanding how to take care of themselves rather than dying from a virus? That’s why grocery store shelves are empty.
I hope we’ll see that our homesteading lifestyle is to be shared and expanded, not placed in a box away from people. People lack even the basic skill of cooking. Who’s going to teach them if their ancestors are gone?
I hope we’ll be empathetic, not apathetic, towards those who are truly scared and worried about the pandemic in their communities. Many of us have no idea how contagious fear is in even the bravest of hearts until we’re living in the middle of something we never thought we’d see.
And I hope we’ll realize that this homesteading lifestyle isn’t just a way to grow our own food. It’s a way of life––an old way of life––that is truly the difference between feeling the weight of “life or death”. A way of life that we should appreciate not only because we are naturally prepared for whatever comes our way, but because we have the ability to take care of ourselves in a society that screams that someone else should take care of you. A society that screams that you don’t need to grow your food or be in control of your health care because someone else can do that for you. If nothing more, I hope this has taught our society that the mindset of “someone else can take care of you” is completely and totally false.
Friends, I wish you well. I wish you health and happiness. I pray your seeds germinate and your crops grow well this spring and summer. And I hope that you’ll embrace this lifestyle, and appreciate this lifestyle, more than ever before.
More than anything, I wish you peace during a less than peaceful time, in every way, in our country.
Grow those seeds. Love your family. Turn the tv off and homestead. And if someone asks . . . show them the way to a better lifestyle . . . a homesteading lifestyle.
[Find more from this series by starting at the first blog HERE.]
Our living room is dark, a movie is paused on the TV providing a shallow glow in the corner by the couch. For the past two days, we debated on spending a significant amount of money for a flight to a promising job fair back on the East Coast at the end of the week. Alas, another full day of anxiously waiting to hear back from job recruiters has proven fruitless. Disappointment prompts me to close my eyes, clench my teeth, and utter an unembellished prayer asking for help.
“Lord, if you don’t want me to go to this job fair then I need to know. Like…now, even now.”
The next five minutes, including the first seconds immediately proceeding “Amen”, consisted of two not-so-random circumstances where [I believe] the Lord directly answered this frustrated and specific prayer. The infant monitor, affixed to the crib watching over a sleeping and still baby, unexplainably fell to the floor, and a random email from a computer programming center I researched years ago was sent to my inbox at 21:53 Central Time. Megan, at the same time all these instances were occuring, was in the shower and praying a very similar prayer (unbeknownst to me) for clarity and direction right now. Just a few minutes later, the path became clear, the application was sent, and my steps were directed straightforward. The look of shock and near-disbelief when I told her what was planned next quickly became a visage of humbled tears, emitting both joy and relief.
Everything had built up to this moment of change, this opportunity to take the next leap of faith, planting my shovel deep into the dirt and believing this is where God had carefully guided our steps. A weight lifted off of my back, excitement rushed in, and we shared a giant embrace celebrating the moment.
Chicken coop
A day or so after this personal revelation we found ourselves helping build a small chicken house for our family in Oklahoma. Megan’s father, the jack-of-all-trades, was the natural foreman for the project. Megan’s sister had a little bit of land to work with, and her desire of owning chickens marked a great excuse for us all to come together and argue about how we should proceed with building the coop. This project would eventually change about fifteen times, and the seasoned father effortlessly would change the design to fit the needs of the moment (all while looking in my direction and winking).
In the front yard was a beautiful flowering quince, a large shrub with thousands of flowers needing pollination. Noonday arrived and hundreds upon hundreds of honeybees were seen circling its pink blossoms looking to load up on the yellow spoil and take it back to their hive.
Bee in Flight
A beautiful sight, a wonderful sound, a promise of local honey to pour later in the summer. Our baby girl spent time with her young cousin and met two of the tiny chicks which would eventually make the coop their home. She would reach out grasping for the tender bird and her loving cousin would gently turn away to avoid a chicken catastrophe. I’m unsure of the poultry equivalent of veal, but we weren’t ready to dive into that particular cuisine delicacy.
How do-you-do?
Late afternoon approached, and the chicken coop started to take shape. The day’s work was done. We said our farewells and took the long way back home: an old highway passing through ranch land; however, not just any ranch land, big ranch land. The comforting sights and smells of large fields being burnt for the upcoming season allowed for moments of quiet reflection. We had just come through our own personal burn season, and now we were ready to start planting.
We know where the seed will go, we expect to watch the plant grow over the course of time. We anticipate the day we can reap the crop, but sometimes we forget what happens after the yield: preserving the food, planning meals, cooking and consuming meals, and sharing the spoil with others. The reality is we plant many seeds not knowing if all will come to harvest. Sometimes we see the buds sprouting, sometimes we are able to take the seedings to their permanent home out in the garden, and sometimes (hopefully) we have a bumper crop. A garden is a stepping stone for these plants, not the end-game. The harvest isn’t the final step of the vintage, we want to enjoy what has taken weeks and months to produce. Our seed was planted in Virginia, we didn’t know where we’d go at first, but we did eventually find ourselves placed with moderate delicacy in the soil of Missouri. For a couple months we struggled to see the light [seed], barely peeking out of the ground and not knowing what was going on in our lives [sprout]. Then, suddenly, one day our trajectory started to make sense [seedling]: weed out all the distractions, stop worrying about the job offer that never came, focus completely on the task at hand (my course work), and prepare to be transplanted in the coming months.
seedlings
Back at the farm, another day, dinner time. Sitting outside enjoying a bowl of homemade spicy lo mein and watching the cars go by, a chorus of target practice suddenly erupts from the neighbors land: serenading us with the calming ambiance of gunfire and the obvious enthusiasm of one particular shooter who apparently valued speed over precision. Our little girl just had a few spoonfuls of rice formula, a new experience for her and a very welcomed adventure. A door is heard closing on an old truck down by the bridge. A quick peek confirmed two boys heading under the bridge weren’t our neighbors. They silently slipped into their hiding spot with their red plastic cups, a bag of ice, and what they thought was going to be a quiet evening quickly turned on them as I approached their concealed position. I don’t get these moments much, but I could feel the “get off my lawn” old man personna channeling through me quite vividly. Quick pleasantries are exchanged, the young country boys head back to their truck and disappear down the road. Back to the lo mein, now cold, and this grumpy personality switches back into lounge mode.
The sun is beginning to show days-end light. Shadows slowly stretch over the wonderful array of evening color: rays of shimmering gold cascade over flora and fauna (if you include our dear cat, Ella). Everything begins to wind down, time even takes its own time to grasp its hands, curl out its fingers, and give itself the good ole over-the-head stretch and groan. What a night, what a land, what an experience. This isn’t our homestead, yet, and may never be; however, for now, it is ours to take care of, to maintain and improve. Be mindful of those that have helped you along the way, tilling your ground or giving you pointers, those special nuggets of wisdom you can only hear when attentively listening. We recognize our family that came before us in this house, on this property, that paved the way and allowed us to partake of their labor and enjoy the fruit of their land. We treasure our neighbors, a link to our heritage, who learned from that family how to care for the land and animals: and, in turn, are showing us the same kindness. Generational farming. We listen and search for old wisdom even though Megan’s grandparents are gone now. Much like walking through the woods and looking for a babbling brook: ears open, eyes wide, soaking in the ambient sounds waiting for a song of gentle waters running downstream.
As the final sliver of sun disappears into the horizon, and a cool moon rises ahead, we made our way back into the old beige house. The child is put to sleep, the dishes are ready to be washed, and the final load of laundry is finishing in the dryer. On the kitchen table lay a few pieces of mail, a Bible, hand-scratched notes for a list of errands to do tomorrow, and a laptop with tutorials loaded on the screen and ready to begin. Megan turns on the coffee pot and heads into her hobby room to look at wood burning ideas for her beehive. Alone, facing my laptop and studying for the future, I hear the familiar buzzing hum of the outside garage light. Home. Hope.
late night in the driveway
[From the Author]
To those of you who have followed along the last three weeks, my goal was that you felt frustrated with allegories and vague details: those were purpose-built to mirror the feelings that have been going through my own heart and mind this past year. As the main story arced, the plot narrowed and led to a specific direction: hope. Much like anyone on a farm or homestead, we hope for what we plant, or rear, to grow full and ripe in it’s own season. Writing out this series has helped deal with the raw emotions that can come from tough transitions, and I thank my wife, Megan, for the encouragement to put words down in black-and-white. Thank you homesteaders, you inspired this story. Fingers crossed we’ll have a great garden, honeybees, and some more tales to tell after this year. God bless you.
About the Blogger:
Hi, I’m Tom Reese—a reluctant addictive personality, where “close-enough” is the measure of perfection. My storage area is full of para-cord, disc golf memorabilia, ammo, not nearly enough 10mm sockets, fishing gear, hunting clothes that must’ve shrunk two sizes, and empty boxes full of future ambitions. I’m not quite mid-life, but it’s gaining on me. The best part of me is my wife, Megan, and our baby girl. What’s important to me? Christ. Family. Forgiveness. Cigars. Bourbon. Hot sauce.
[NOTE: This memoir blog post is one of a three part series by Tom Reese III. After a tumultuous two years of moving and career changes, Tom and Megan moved to Missouri in hopes of finding a quieter life. Nothing is promised, but this land is sacred. This three-part series sets the stage for what dreams may come, or what dreams could be changed. We hope you enjoy!]
January 19th, 2017. That’s the day that my life changed, the day the straw broke the camel’s back, the day which started a series of events that was precursed by a giant career change, followed by months of trying out a new job, and ultimately moving everything we had from the Washington DC metro to the middle of nowhere, Missouri. Lost in those details are the kicking and screaming, the “absolutely not” moments, the “it doesn’t make sense” late-night arguments, and the eventual breaking down and being content with wherever we were led next. After much prayer, some fasting, and lots of “wait and see”, we traded in 100k+ earning opportunities for living on a small family farm of about forty acres: dilapidated, old, with a matching drafty house, and zero job prospects. OK Lord, we heard you, we’re here, now what?
Reflecting back at the moments leading up to the decision to move halfway across the country to follow a new dream, each moment sparking a fire full of tinder and fuel just waiting to burn, there’s a realization that you must make a choice to move on and change your life. Standing around constantly wallowing in self-pity destroys your ambition, so if you don’t like where you are in life, then change your life. You know, YOLO and all that hipster speak.
Moving twice in the previous year is tough, even tougher when you are living off of the final drops of your emergency fund, paying cash for hospital bills for your newborn child, and the multiple thousands of dollars for hauling everything cross-country, obliterate your budget. There are many well-intentioned people out there, saying “have you tried this company” or “I heard they pay a good wage” or “there’s a guy who knows a guy where you can’t not [sic] get a job”, and those intentions pile up over time to create a muted response of “thank you” just to get through the dialogue.
So we arrived and surveyed the new land in all its glory.
An old beige house sits weathered in front the property. Technically the house is an addition of an addition, added on top of another addition, and then a garage attached to the middle addition. All the walls are thin, there’s concrete block and brick covering almost every outside wall, aluminum windows, screen doors now acting as interior doors due to the expansion of the house, and any hint of insulation can be summed up into one word: insufficient. There is a quaint backyard with a modest clothesline, some brickwork for a walking path and a rusted-out burn barrel under the old pecan tree. There used to be cattle in the field behind the backyard, but age and the weather have taken its toll and now there’s several fallen trees that need to be addressed before the field is animal-ready. This field, aptly called the “front field”, is where the red barn stands proud but weathered; indeed, like an old veteran who is well past his prime but his face can tell stories without him ever saying a word. Just to the side of the red barn is an old grain silo. Humorously, as the story is told, the older family members had wanted to convert the silo into a smoker, but this project was not added to our list as we didn’t want to use galvanized steel and potentially poison our beloved family.
The red barn houses the most Americana piece of the puzzle: the John Deere tractor. Not to mention some dusty old cars and tools, the likes of which probably hadn’t moved in two decades. Walking into the barn for the first time, alone, there was a sobering moment of nostalgia in the air: this was someone else’s life, someone else’s dreams, a patchwork of culminated hopes and ambitions. The air was heavy, still, and hushed. The former owners of this property had passed away, and not much had been touched except to move personal belongings into the barn for storage. Rotting boards, open tin roof sections mended by fiberglass panels, finger writing on dusty metal panels showcasing the name of someone loved by someone else, red paint precariously clinging to wood fibers, all of these unique characteristics took time and negligence to produce something of splendid beauty.
Going further, beyond the front field, is the next row of fencing that makes up the “middle field”: here is where a silver shed sits attached to a large lean-to. Erected as the main meeting point for all three fields, the unit is full of old tractor equipment, tangled messes of barbed wire, gates formerly used to partition each field, and the odds and ends of metal linkages and small animal cages. Best advice is to mind your step, groundhogs have made this area their home over the years, and any resemblance to a level dirt floor is now more closely associated to the gentle rolling hills of the shire. Snakes live here, and trace evidence of vermin and fowl as well.
The last field is met by a final fence row highlighted by a terminal gate leading you to its pasture. On the Eastern side of the field, concealed by mature trees and a barely noticeable man-made hill, is a small pond with a hand-built wooden dock. The dock has seen better days, as milky photos could prove, but there is still a surprising amount of fish still swimming in this quarter-acre pool. From this small mound you can survey the Northern-most boundary, turn around, and head back home. Sage advice says find another path home, like following the creek which borders the entire West edge of the property: a creek where you have to continuously chase off trespassers from fishing on your land without permission, and obvious deer stands sitting incredibly close to your property line and facing your direction. Nothing to see here, nothing to worry about.
We’re pretty poor right now (no income), and we are terrible at this (anything to do with farming), and there is zero agreement on how to approach each project (my function over her form). Our dreams are bigger than our budget, our hopes bigger than our dreams. We have no idea how long this season will last, or even if we will end up making this our forever home, or not. Our minds are full of projects; however, even with all the hopes of bees, and cattle, and sheep, and deer, and a woodshop, and a forge, and a completely revamped house, there is a noticeable murmur of acknowledgement in understanding this going to take quite some time to tackle each project and make these dreams a reality.
Then the reality hits home, at some point you need to start…something…anything. Megan and I would write down jargon and diagrams on notepads and graph paper, fantasizing about box gardens, ten-foot deer fences, wood equipment, and tools that were way beyond our budget at the moment. We watched hours upon hours of tutorials together, went to classes together, and ultimately decided to pursue two projects this Spring: making a beehive and preparing a garden plot. What happened next should be obvious at this point, we tossed and turned and had no collaboration as to how these projects would look, where the money was going to come from, or even what they should look like in the long run. Funding was found by some old bonds left from Megan’s dear grandmother (rest in peace), and the garden would have to be started by good ole fashioned sweat equity.
We have a shovel. We have a start.
All of these circumstances do not negate the absolute fun we’ve had here in this little town: precious memories that will last a lifetime, like deciding to walk outside when it’s -2 in nothing but briefs, or when an entire 500-gallon tank of propane was emptied in just over a month (I told you this house was drafty), playing board games with neighbors almost weekly, or being able to harvest firewood hewn from the very trees downed on the farm of your heritage. There is a roof over our head, there is food on the table, there is a neighbor next door with family tales only he could remember, there’s old tools to be oiled, work to be done, and a place to call home for now. In all of these circumstances, we count ourselves as rich.
The living room is no longer cold, a fire now burns in the late hours of the evening. Spring is just around the corner.
About the Blogger:
Hi, I’m Tom Reese—a reluctant addictive personality, where “close-enough” is the measure of perfection. My storage area is full of para-cord, disc golf memorabilia, ammo, not nearly enough 10mm sockets, fishing gear, hunting clothes that must’ve shrunk two sizes, and empty boxes full of future ambitions. I’m not quite mid-life, but it’s gaining on me. The best part of me is my wife, Megan, and our baby girl. What’s important to me? Christ. Family. Forgiveness. Cigars. Bourbon. Hot sauce.
I’m often asked why we choose to homestead. People seem to be fascinated with the idea of a small family farm. Well, a small family farm run by a large family of ten. There are so many reasons that we chose homesteading for our family. All of those reasons are anchored by our passion for this lifestyle.
Our homesteading journey began back in October of 2011. Neither Derek nor I had ever lived in a neighborhood before this time in our lives. We moved from the mountains of SW Virginia to a small town on the bay in NW Florida. As we approached the 6 month mark of living there, we began to desire living in the country again. The neighborhood life just wasn’t for us.
Neither of us had farmed before but I grew up with horses and Derek had been raised in the country gardening and preserving food. They also raised chickens from time to time when he was a child. This was the extent of our prior farm experiences.
I have always leaned towards a more natural approach to things in life, but our diet was far from healthy. We definitely weren’t eating a whole foods based diet. As I began to research and learn many things about our broken food and agriculture systems, the desire to do better and live a healthier lifestyle began to stir.
We made some immediate and drastic changes. By that, I mean we threw away almost everything in our kitchen and bought nothing but real food. This meant that we had to drive 2 hours to a store that carried “clean” food that wasn’t processed, ladened with chemicals and was not genetically modified. We also stopped by a farm on our way through to get fresh milk.
As the spring began to approach, we started a small garden in our backyard. This was so exciting! We began to see the fruits of our labor. We wanted to provide fresh, organic food for our family. Growing our own food was the best way to ensure this.
It didn’t take long for us to realize that our dream went far beyond what we could do in that backyard in a neighborhood. We wanted to move to some acreage where we could pasture raise livestock for meat and have our own milk cow. We wanted a large enough garden to provide our family’s produce for an entire year. We also missed home and the mountains.
In May of 2012, we packed up our home in Florida and moved back to Virginia with our (at the time) 5 children in tow. We moved in with my parents with plans to find our own homestead as soon as possible. They were more than happy to have us in their home and were glad for us to stay as long as we needed to. This ended up being much longer than we thought.
My parents had 3 ¼ acres that joined my cousin’s 25 acres. We were able to begin homesteading right where we were. It started with a large garden and a flock of laying hens. This quickly grew to include meat birds, pigs, a family milk cow, and eventually a few heifers for a beef herd.
We spent 4 years living there. We searched high and low for our own farm. We looked at dozens of properties over the years. There were many that we thought would work out but for one reason or another, none of them did. Mostly, banks don’t want to finance old homes on land. When the land out values the home, you just can’t get a loan.
Early in 2016, we started feeling stirred to return to Florida. Only, this time, we would be sure to have land so that we could continue to homestead. There’s way too much involved to go into the details of this here and now. In June of 2016, we made the move as a family of 9. We had to sell off all of our livestock and start over from scratch on a 2 ½ acre property.
We’ve been in Florida for almost 2 years and our farm here includes a garden, laying hens, milk goats, grass fed steers, pastured pigs, meat chickens, and bees. We’ve also added our 8th child while living here.
We don’t know what life holds for us long term, but we have some big dreams. Our goal is to have more land and raise pastured livestock to sell. We want to continue to raise as much of our own food as possible and to provide our community with that as well.
This is our story, how we began homesteading. It truly is our passion and the life we want our children to know and love. We want to leave them a legacy full of faith and hope. One that will show them that you can follow your dreams and succeed. Pursue your passions and flourish doing what you love with the people you love.
Follow Jenna’s large family homesteading journey on their YouTube channel!
There was a time when I used to burn rice. Boxed meals were my specialty, and I could eat garlic bread for lunch. Thanks to a good friend, 6 years ago, I learned about whole foods. I tasted home grown eggs from free-range chickens and it changed everything for me. They were so delicious! We started buying grass fed meat, and raw milk and our bodies started to crave the dense nutrition. We wanted our own chickens, but after getting busted twice by our HOA we realized that it wasn’t going to work where we were at. When we started seeing all the restriction and confinement of living in the suburbs we soon realized what we needed to do. The introduction to real food left us wanting to be more self sufficient.
About a year later, soon after our first baby was born, we started looking for a little land. It took a while, and in the mean time I learned how to cook and bake (my husband is forever thankful!). I found a love for changing recipes, and actually looked forward to creating my own dinner recipes every night. It still brings me so much happiness to nourish my family. Raising our family closer to nature was becoming a priority for me, and homesteading started to be a regular word used in our house.
Dreams Come True
Our dream came true 2 years ago when we found our 3.5 acre property. It was covered in tumbleweeds, and trashed chain-link fencing, isn’t that what everyone dreams of? It was desolate, it was deserted, it was going to be so much work, but it was OURS, and we could have as many chickens as we wanted!
We now have more chickens than we can count (with poop all over the porch to prove it), and we will start to breed heritage chickens this Spring. Our flock of katahdin sheep, and our nubian dairy goat all just had their lambs/kids which more than doubled our sheep and goat count in under 2 weeks. Being in Arizona, our climate is one of our biggest enemies. We do have irrigation rights, which helps immensely, and we are also working to implement pasture rotation to reclaim our soil. Our grass and soil has already changed dramatically over the last year of working on it.
Our next big focus is setting up our garden area and food forest. Our homegrown eggs, lamb, chickens, and goat milk have been wonderful, and soon we will have fresh fruits and vegetables too. We homestead to raise our own food. To raise our children to believe in something bigger than themselves. I have never worked so hard, and I have never felt so fulfilled as I do where we are now.
Planting a new tree is a family event, and it brings us all so much joy. We go on a family walk around the perimeter of our property every night, and we all stand around our ewes as they give birth guessing how many more she might have. We love this farm life!
Dani and her husband, Curtis, live in San Tan Valley, Arizona with their 3 kids. Dani writes about life on the farm, and shares her favorite farm to table recipes on her blog Desolate Homestead, and you can follow her on Facebook.
It all began with a wink. That’s how I met my husband…a wink. I had no idea what I was getting into, but they say things happen for a reason and I believe that now more than ever. Here is our story of Fort Morgan Farms.
Tim was a police officer in the Atlanta area at the time I met him and I was a single mom working as a contractor for the Army in transportation. Now, I may have lived in the city, but I loved to bow hunt, camp, hike and basically do anything outdoors. It was pretty typical of my son, Nate, to ask me “What adventure’s next mom?” Well, this worked out well for Tim’s courtship, as I fell right into his trap of luring me to the country life. He enticed me with stories of his beautiful log cabin among 50 acres that he’d been working on for the past few years. It was in the little town of Glenwood, West Virginia. He told me of the beautiful hickory cabinets in the large kitchen—knowing perfectly well I loved to cook and bake—and of the Ash wood floors that he laid…..how peaceful it was to sit on the front porch overlooking the creek watching the sun disappear behind the mountains….and the solitude of not having a neighbor for miles.
We continued on to have long conversations about chickens, goats and cows and rural life in general. How fun it would be to romp around on 50 acres of our own! After awhile, his plan of talking this city girl into moving to the country worked (without much arm twisting, I might add)….and off we went to West Virginia to start our homesteading adventure!
For the next four years we developed our garden, built chicken coops, canned, hunted and played. We learned so much those four years. Hardships, struggles, the loss and giving of an animal’s life, and the rewards of hard work. I had also decided to home school Nate, who was in the 7th grade, which was quite an adventure in itself. In the evening, you could often find Tim and I spending our date nights in the kitchen, canning green beans or making jelly from the blackberries we picked that day (and we had all the scars to prove it!).
And other times, were spent among the rocky hills exploring with Nate and finding all kinds of natural treasures, new trees to climb, and wildflowers! Living way out in the hills wasn’t easy by any means, but we were happy and very proud of what we had accomplished. A basement full of canned goods that we raised, processed and grew, a freezer full of hunting meat and blackberry pies….and all the long, hard hours that went into that, felt pretty good to see.
Through those years and many trials and errors we perfected our raising and processing of the meat birds, we also learned how to raise and process rabbits and ducks and had just got our first set of bee hives. We were so excited!!!! But then, in an instant…everything changed. We lost it…..we lost everything we’d worked for. God must have had a bigger plan, I just didn’t realize it at the time.
On April 4, 2015 our lives changed forever. Normally, at the farm, we’d sleep in late, as Tim worked night shift and Nate and I homeschooled. This particular morning, we had gotten up early and left for a race I’d entered. It was a fundraiser for a church in Ohio. On the way home from the race, we received a call from a neighbor that we normally never hear from. He told us someone had burnt our home down and that there was nothing left.
I can’t imagine how he felt having to make that kind of a call. And how does one receive that news? How can I possibly explain the emotions of that call? How can I possibly explain the feeling of pulling up alongside the road and seeing nothing but the chimney standing two stories tall with nothing around it? All our hard work, all our dreams….. I can’t fully explain…as the tears still trickle….I have no words.
We pulled up to see fire fighters, police and neighbors just standing there….watching the smoke…..there was nothing left to save. We found out, that while we were gone that morning, a local drug addict broke into our home, stole our belongings and then went through the house with a kerosene can and set it on fire. Our kitty Rocky was in that fire.
Everything we had was gone. All of Tim’s family treasures which covered generations, years of hard work…plans…dreams…..gone in an instant.
This by itself is a long story and I could go into detail about the emotional months and year to come. However, I choose today, two years later to tell the story of why. Why God had a bigger plan and why I choose to see the reasons of good in it. See, while I was running in the race for the church that morning, I remember a specific part of the trail I was on. I could still picture it perfectly in my head today. Now, let me tell you I’m not a runner. Never have been fast and I always struggled. But that day, during that specific time, I remember singing as I was running “God is with me, God is with me”…and my body felt lighter than air at that moment. I didn’t know it, but my home was burning down at this time. A week later, I got a medal in the mail for finishing first in my age group.
It was now a month after the fire and we were still living on the farm in small camper we had bought since we had animals and barns to take care of and guard from looters. Now, Rocky was the kitty we lost in that fire. She was six months old at the time. Gray with a half tail…she was the cutest thing. Rocky and I would love to take naps by the warm wood stove during the cold months and she was with me always. I was totally devastated over her loss. So anyway, one mid-morning, we were getting ready to leave for the store and I stepped outside the camper we were staying in and I heard the faintest of “meows”. I thought it was a bird, because they have one in West Virginia that sounds like a cat. I stood there and listened…..and then I asked my son if he heard it….and Tim…and all of a sudden, out of the middle of nowhere (and I mean the middle of nowhere because that’s where we lived), came this 4 week old kitten…scared to death and all wet. He was gray and white just like Rocky….. Then we noticed his tail. He had a kink in the same exact spot as Rocky did. Shivers I tell you…..this gave us shivers. Even Tim thought it very weird, and if you knew Tim, that’s a rarity.
That forest kitty is now our Miracle Kitty, as I think God sent us our Rocky back exactly one month after the fire. Its things like this that kept happening the next year or so, just weird things, but with a feeling that God was guiding us. He saved my family that day of the fire you know. We all would have been sleeping that early morning you see.
The next few months we went back and forth about rebuilding or moving. After many deep conversations, concerns and questions on should we start over somewhere else with land, should we rebuild as this is our home place……well, we decided to move and go a completely different route. We just weren’t ready to have a homestead again and at this time, really didn’t think we would ever have one again. But in this move, like everything else, God knew what he was doing….I just didn’t know it at the time.
So here we go……With two bee hives, a few ducks, a dog and a kitten, we packed up what we had in WV, got on the road and headed to our new home…. in Southport, NC. It was a beach town, very quiet, and ten minutes from the ocean. This new house was only on one acre……we had neighbors…..and stores….and traffic…..it was quite the change of pace, going from farm to beach. But it was a nice little town, and we now look back at the year we spent there and realize it was our healing place. God gave us that place, with just enough land to grow …..to slowly start a little garden, to get back a bit at a time of self-sustainability and the like. During this year in NC we built a little coop for the ducks (which we snuck into this subdivision), got our bees set up and built a bunch of raised beds.
It was nice and we enjoyed it.
But after a year there, we started missing the woods again.
You know, just to hunt and romp around. So Tim started looking for land close by that we could go use on the weekends. He looked and looked for months and months and just couldn’t find anything nearby. Well, for some reason, and unbeknownst to him, a little spot of land for sale kept popping up on his side screen of his computer….like an ad of sorts. It was in Arkansas. Arkansas, people! We never heard anything about Arkansas, never thought about Arkansas. To be honest I thought Arkansas had tumble weeds and was all brown! I knew nothing about this state but it kept popping up. So, Tim looked at it. It just so happened that this plot of land for sale, was perfect! It had everything Tim was looking for. After about a month of watching this ad and both of us saying, “We can’t possibly move to Arkansas”, I decided to go check it out. Now, I’ll admit, it was a trip to mostly to rule Arkansas out and get it off our minds so we could move on to something else. So I packed up my dog and drove the 16 hours there to check out this little piece of land. During the drive, between french fries shared with Ruby my German Shepherd, I kept repeating…”bless it or block it God”…..and He did. From there, things just kept falling into place….weird things. And when I was headed back to NC, I repeated the same prayer.
The next day after I told Tim about what I saw, showed him some pictures of the land and little town nearby and the big beautiful lake….he asked me what I thought. I told him, “We should do it”, and with such confidence I think I scared him. He said, “Just like that, because you have a feeling we are supposed to go there?”…and I said “YUP, just like that.” So without telling anyone…..we sold our healing home in Southport and moved to our new homestead….in Arkansas! It’s craziness I tell you!
But, we were ready. So once again, with a convoy of ducks, bees, dogs and cats we were on the road.
It was quite hysterical to see this convoy move through the big cities in rush hour traffic. People would wave, stare and honk in support. It was quite a site!
So there we were….. in Arkansas, on 30 acres, living in a camper once again and hoping we made the right decision…..and then I saw it….the sign I needed. As I stepped outside in the early morning with coffee in hand before anyone else was up…..there was a cross.
It was the top of a young cedar tree standing tall on its own in the front of the woods. It was the perfect shape of a cross. And it was at that point, I knew we were home. I knew everything had happened for a reason and we were where we were supposed to be.
Currently, we are building our small 1000 sq ft. farm house on this wonderful rocky 30 acres of property in Arkansas.
We’ve already built the rabbit hutches, bought a chicken coop from an elderly couple, have our chickens on order, Bakers seeds waiting to be planted, a garden cut out, the two bee hives are set up and a greenhouse is in the building stages.
We also have a plan where Nate will be in charge of our first aquaponics system as well, which will be part of his homeschooling assignments. People have told us, “grass won’t grow under your feet” as we’ve only been in Arkansas seven months now. They’ve also said we’ve had such strength, courage, and determination through this whole process. But it’s really the people that we have met on this journey, and the listening to God, that has and does keep us going forward with such a positive outlook.
It’s been amazing! I guess at this point, we’re just ready to homestead once again….to see chickens run across the yard and to shell beans on the front porch overlooking the most beautiful sky I’ve ever seen. Yup…..we’re excited for homestead adventure to continue!!! Isn’t that what homesteading is all about….the journey? Well, this is our journey……and we are forever grateful.
Bumble Bee Junction came about in 1996 from two conflicting factors—the fixed incomes of two disabled Veterans, and four children to feed. Thankfully, we were able to draw on previous skills and experiences such as cooking, canning, crochet, hunting, fishing, trapping, building, to pull us through.
Our main focus in the beginning, as it remains today, is gardening. No fancy methods or elaborate setups. We work the standpoint that well developed soil produces quality yields from healthy plants. We have since moved our homesteading efforts from NC to eastern TN, taking with us the positive experiences from our early days, and allowing us the benefit of also knowing what we might do differently. Now, 21 years down the road, we’ve incorporated a Rouen duck flock we’ve maintained through several generations, we are developing a breed of chickens suitable for our demands, and we are growing our Bob White quail breeding program. We have never forgotten where we began though—in the garden, sowing seeds, and pulling weeds. And though our children are grown and enjoying their lives, we still maintain four gardens, 16 raised beds, a 50+ tree orchard, grape and kiwi arbors, and a host of permaculture plantings on our 7.25 acre homestead.
That said, we are still newcomers to the homesteading community. We’ve spent the last 7 or 8 years helping new gardeners, both local and online, through our Facebook page: Bumble Bee Junction. We did not discover the “Homesteading Community” though until we began using YouTube recently to make simple slideshow videos of our adventures to post on our Facebook page several months ago. We love interacting with other homesteaders through YouTube and have a small simple channel, but we are a far cry from “content creators” ourselves. We are very happy to devote our time to our homestead, and make ourselves available to anyone needing help or advice with theirs.
If we can be of any assistance to others, our skill sets include: Gardening (container, raised bed, and flat ground), Soil Development, Cooking, Canning, Dehydrating, Food Storage, Chickens (including breed development / genetics), Rouen Ducks, Bob White Quail, Crotchet, Crafting, Essential Oils, Natural Herbs and Remedies, Sewing, Camping, Hunting, Fishing, and Construction. It is best to reach us through our Facebook page: Bumble Bee Junction. But if you look hard enough, you may stumble across us drifting around YouTube, meeting new folks and making new friends as we explore the “Homesteading Community” we were largely unaware existed until recently.
Thank you for doing this for others. We love the idea. It is so weird to feel like such “noobs” on YouTube when we’ve been homesteading for so long – having raised 4 kids to adulthood from our gardens…
Life Cycle
Life Cycle
About the Blogger:
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