My Journey to Homesteading

I didn’t grow up on a farm.

Rather, I was raised in a small coastal town, where the closest thing I had to farm life was a horse in the backyard. But even then, something in me was always drawn to a more country way of living.

I was the little girl listening to country music, daydreaming about open fields, red barns and hillside farms…certain somehow that one day, I’d live that kind of life too.

I just never imagined it would actually become mine.

That dream began to take shape in 2013, when I met my husband.

His family had been farming this land for generations, and he carried a vision of bringing it back to life again. Not just as it once was, but as something we could grow into as a family.

This land holds a long and beautiful history.

Generations before us raised cows and chickens to feed their families. My husband’s great-great grandparents ran a cut flower business, growing blooms in greenhouses and shipping them by train into New York City to sell in the markets. Later, the farm became a cut-your-own Christmas tree farm, which we still run today.

There’s something humbling about walking the same ground they once did. About knowing this life didn’t begin with us, yet it was entrusted to us to carry on its legacy.

When we first started, we kept it simple.

Meat birds.
Then pigs.
Laying hens.
Bees.
Even a short (and memorable) season with goats.

Each year, we’ve learned a little more, not just about farming, but about stewardship. About what it means to care for this land, to listen to it, and to work with it instead of against it.

Today, our three boys are the seventh known generation to live on this farm.

Somewhere along the way, something else began to grow too.

A love for growing our own food.
And an even deeper love for feeding my family.

I’ve always loved cooking (thanks to my mom), but the first time I tasted vegetables fresh from our garden, something shifted. The flavor, the connection, the knowing. It was enough to make me never want to go back.

In 2017, when I became pregnant with my first child, that feeling deepened.

I started asking different questions. Paying closer attention.
Wanting more intention behind what we were putting on our plates.

What began as curiosity slowly turned into a dream of growing as much of our own food as we could. Of having a garden that felt abundant, nourishing, and alive.

Now, in our garden, you’ll find rows of tomatoes, snap peas, corn, winter squash, herbs, and flowers tucked in between. A mix of beauty and function, because I’ve learned they belong together.

These days, that little girl’s dream and a mother’s instinct have woven themselves into the way we live.

Our kitchen is rarely quiet.

There’s usually a sourdough starter being fed on the counter, bread baking in the oven, a chicken roasting for dinner, with a pot of broth simmering from what’s left behind. Come summer and fall, the shelves slowly fill with jars of jams, vegetables, pieces of the season we’ve tucked away for later.

Our days follow a simple rhythm.

We homeschool our boys, cook most of our meals from scratch and we spend as much time outside as we can.

And in these slower winter months, you’ll find us planning the garden, starting seeds, and dreaming about what’s yet to come.

It’s a full life. Sometimes messy. Often loud and almost always a little bit unkempt.

But it’s ours and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

One of the questions I get asked most often is, how do you do it all?

The truth is, we don’t do it all.

We’ve just chosen what matters most, and we’ve built our days around that.

Recently I felt the pull to create a space to share this life. Not just the beautiful parts, but the learning, the stretching, and the love that holds it all together.

More than anything, I hope this space reminds you that a slower, more meaningful life is possible. Because I think so many of us feel it that quiet pull back to something simpler.

To knowing where our food comes from.
To working with our hands.
To living a little more intentionally.

This world moves fast. Faster than it was ever meant to.

And I think many of us are just trying to find our way back to our roots.

Here, you’ll find simple recipes, gardening tips, preserving guides, and honest glimpses into life on our family farm, the beauty of it, and the work behind it.

But more than anything, I hope you leave here feeling encouraged.

Because you don’t need acres of land to grow food.
You don’t need perfection to create a meaningful home.

You just need a place to begin.

I’m so glad you’re here.

Truly.

And I’ll save you a seat on the front porch.