Practical Homesteading

Category: Agriculture

  • First-Time Farrowing on Our Homestead: How Our Gilts Welcomed 20 Piglets

    First-Time Farrowing on Our Homestead: How Our Gilts Welcomed 20 Piglets

    If you’ve been following along, you know our family just welcomed 20 new homestead inhabitants. Both of our gilts farrowed 10 healthy piglets each, within eight days of one another. In this post, I’m sharing the good, the bad, and the “ugly” (if you consider birth in all its rawness “ugly”) from our first farrowing season.

    If you’re a human parent, you may find yourself nodding along—there are a lot of parallels between farrowing and real childbirth.

    Planning for Piglet Due Dates and Farrowing

    Our first gilt was due on Mother’s Day, which felt poetic and slightly nerve‑wracking.

    We estimated her due date by:

    Mr.Eligible boar (pink)

    Just like with human pregnancies, a “due date” for pigs is more like a due window. There’s a grace period on either side, and you quickly learn that the animals don’t read calendars.

    About four days before the due date, we moved our soon-to-be mama into her farrowing quarters—a fixed-up building on our property. Her udder had been noticeably full for about three weeks, but it really expanded in the three days leading up to the due date.

    On the calendar due date itself, she turned…feisty. And by feisty, I mean she was ready to bite anything that got within range of her snout. But she did not actually farrow that day.

    My husband and I were both on high alert. He checked on her several times from Sunday into Monday, but nothing happened. Then, midday Monday, he checked on her again, saw no progress, ran a quick errand, and came back to a surprise: three piglets, mostly dried off and already attempting to nurse.

    Watching the First Piglets Arrive

    He came to pull me away from my home office, and we stood there, just watching.

    It’s incredible how quickly piglets transition from birth to motion:

    • They got up on shaky legs
    • They walked toward mom’s teats
    • They instinctively nuzzled and attempted to latch

    When they wandered too close to her head or drifted off too far, she would grunt, and they would back off. You could see the communication happening instantly between mother and babies.

    Based on how quickly those first three arrived, we expected more piglets to appear almost immediately. But an hour went by with no action.

    We knew there were more piglets in there. A typical first-time gilt can have between 6 and 12 piglets, and we could see our girl straining. But nothing was moving.

    When Birth Doesn’t Go Smoothly

    At this point, we knew we were out of our depth and that simply “waiting” might not be enough. My husband called my brother-in-law, who came over quickly (we still cannot thank him enough) with oxytocin to help speed up the process if needed.

    Oxytocin for pigs is similar to Pitocin for humans. It’s also a hormone our bodies naturally produce to help labor progress and to promote bonding with our young.

    Before he arrived, though, the next piglet finally emerged—and it was stillborn.

    Based on its size, we could tell it hadn’t fully developed in the womb, which is fairly common in pig litters. What I didn’t know beforehand was how much a stillborn piglet can slow down the farrowing process.

    In a normal birth:

    • The sow pushes
    • The piglet wriggles and helps move itself along the birth canal

    When the piglet is stillborn, there’s no wriggling, which reduces the sow’s natural urge to push and makes things much slower and harder.

    The Rest of the Litter and Piglet Safety

    Once the stillborn piglet was out, everything sped up. The next seven piglets arrived within about half an hour. Some came out in groups of three, one right after another.

    We:

    • Caught each piglet
    • Used towels to dry them off
    • Placed them under a heat lamp in a designated corner of the farrowing crate

    We had intentionally designed a piglet-only corner in the crate—an area where the babies could go but the sow could not. This gives them a protected space if mom’s hormones are running high or she’s moving around clumsily during or after farrowing.

    My brother-in-law arrived during this time, showed us how to administer oxytocin, and—equally important—gave us some perspective.

    He reminded us that sometimes you need to “sit on your hands.” The sow often knows what to do, and constant interference can create more problems than it solves.

    Mere minutes before this, we had to sit on our hands as we were nervous the new mom would lay flat on her babies. Imagine 10 little ones walking underneath you, going in front of you as you try not to walk into them, and you can understand our apprehension.

    Instincts, Bonding, and the Early Days

    It was awe-inspiring to watch a first-time mom become a mother in an instant.

    When we picked up a piglet, it squealed, and she would leap up, immediately on guard, ready to defend her baby. That bond is powerful and very, very real.

    In the first week, we watched the piglets:

    • Double, then nearly triple in size
    • Learn to find the warmest spot under the heat lamp
    • Figure out (and fight over) the best spots on the udder

    Because the weather was initially cold, we added a second heat lamp in the piglet-only section to keep them warm enough. Those first days felt like a delicate balancing act between warmth, safety, and giving the sow enough space to relax and recover.

    Just as the first litter was settling into a rhythm, we realized we were about to do it all over again with our second gilt.

    Preparing for Our Second Gilt’s Farrowing

    Five days later, we moved our second gilt into her farrowing crate. In classic Wisconsin fashion, the weather changed dramatically—now it was suddenly warm.

    That temperature swing added a whole different layer of worry.

    Several times, we thought she was laying down to start farrowing. My husband lost more than a few nights of sleep, watching her, waiting for contractions that never came. Instead, she was simply overheated and panting, trying to cool herself down.

    A few things to remember about pigs:

    • They don’t have sweat glands
    • They carry a good layer of insulating fat
    • Dumping excess heat is genuinely hard for them

    We ended up spraying her gently with a hose during the worst of the heat, and it made a noticeable difference. She relaxed, her breathing slowed, and it was a good reminder that not every “change” in position or breathing is labor.

    Sometimes, it’s just a hot pig.

    A Dramatic Second Farrowing

    Naturally, our second gilt chose a wonderfully inconvenient time to start farrowing.

    Right as I was heading out the door for my monthly book club meeting, she decided it was go time. By the time I returned, seven piglets were already out.

    My husband filled me in on what I’d missed:

    • One piglet was born breech (butt first), and he had to help pull it out
    • By the time it emerged, it was struggling to breathe, so he rubbed it vigorously to stimulate it

    Then came another challenge—the largest piglet of the litter got stuck in the sow’s pelvis. It took about an hour for that baby to finally make its way out. Once it did, the remaining piglets arrived quickly, followed by the placenta (what some people call the “afterbirth” or “cleanings”).

    That hour with the stuck piglet felt much longer than sixty minutes. It was one of those situations where you’re walking a line between stepping in and letting nature work, all while trying not to panic.

    Second litter, they also made a dramatic entrance

    What We Didn’t Need—and What We Did

    Looking back at both farrowings, a few specific tools and supplies made a big difference—and a few things we were sure we’d need stayed in the box.

    One small but encouraging discovery: we didn’t end up needing the iodine we had ordered for antiseptic purposes. Both gilts instinctively chewed off their piglets’ umbilical cords on their own, just as nature designed them to.

    During the second farrowing, we did use the sleeve-length veterinary gloves, which my husband used to check the second sow and see where the piglet was in the birth canal. Having those on hand gave us a safer way to assess what was happening without introducing as much risk of infection.

    After each birth:

    • Mom would eventually lay down flat, exposing her full udder
    • The piglets would find their spots and latch on
    • The first milk, just like in humans, was rich colostrum
    • Later, her full milk let-down came in

    The sow grunts to call her babies over and often continues to grunt the entire time she’s nursing. It’s a sound that becomes the background track to your days during those first weeks—steady, rhythmic, and weirdly comforting.

    She nurses about once an hour around the clock, and in between, she rests, eats, drinks, and even teaches her babies where to defecate (in a designated corner).

    Lessons We Learned from Our First Farrowing

    This whole experience left us humbled, exhausted, and incredibly grateful. It also taught us some practical lessons we’ll carry into every future farrowing season.

    We learned:

    • How much can go smoothly without our intervention when we give the sow space
    • How quickly things can go wrong—and how critical it is to have knowledgeable help on call
    • How important it is to be prepared for both cold snaps and heat waves during spring farrowing
    • How valuable a piglet-only safe zone and basic supplies (like gloves and towels) can be
    • How strong maternal instinct is, whether in pigs or humans

    If you’re reading this because you’re considering raising pigs, or you’re just here for the many parallels to human childbirth, I hope this gives you a real, honest picture of what farrowing can look like.

    It’s messy, beautiful, stressful, and holy all at once—and when you’re standing there in a dusty farrowing crate, watching a brand-new piglet wobble toward its first meal, it’s hard not to feel a little awe.

    If you’ve been through your own version of ‘first farrowing’—with pigs, other livestock, or even human babies—I’d love to hear about it. What surprised you the most about birth and early days on your homestead?

    If this story was helpful (or reassuring) as you think about raising pigs, would you share it with a fellow homesteader or save it for later? You can also join my email list for more honest, behind-the-scenes looks at our homestead wins, mistakes, and everything in between.

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    Read Next: Buying Meat from a Farmer: A Complete Guide to Bulk Meat, Freezers, and Butchers

  • Buying Meat from a Farmer: A Complete Guide to Bulk Meat, Freezers, and Butchers

    Buying Meat from a Farmer: A Complete Guide to Bulk Meat, Freezers, and Butchers

    Why Buying Meat from a Farmer Is Different

    The process of purchasing meat directly from a farmer is a little different than grabbing a package from the grocery store. It takes more planning, dependable freezer space, and a willingness to think about your food in a new way.

    But in return, you get so much more than just meat.

    If you’ve ever wondered how to buy a quarter beef or half pig from a local farmer, this guide walks you through the whole process.

    Knowing How Your Meat Was Raised

    There’s something powerful about being able to visit the animal that will eventually feed your family.

    When you have a good relationship with a farmer, you can:

    • See where the animals live
    • Watch what they eat
    • Notice how they’re handled and treated

    To be a good farmer is to be empathetic. You’re working with living beings that deserve dignity. They don’t deserve to live in filth, inside all the time, never able to root, scratch, or roam according to their instincts.

    On our homestead, for example, our pigs are raised outside all the time. They can root, eat grass, make mud puddles, and scratch. We don’t dock piglets’ tails because we let them nurse from mom long enough that they don’t get frustrated and chew on each other. In winter, we help them stay warm in a few ways: we feed them extra so they can build up fat reserves, and we add plenty of straw and insulation around their pig hut (which, for us, is an old calf crate). Think of it like the house of straw from the three little pigs—but this one is reinforced with solid supports and a lot more intention.

    Little Pig, Little Pig, Let me in!

    When you buy meat from a farmer whose practices you know and trust, you’re not just buying a product. You’re choosing a story you feel good feeding your family.

    Bulk Meat, Full Freezer, and Creative Cooking

    Buying meat in bulk pushes you to think beyond just bacon, sausage, and ham.

    Pigs, for example, are so much more than the “usual” cuts. Have you ever had:

    • A well-cooked pork steak or pork chops
    • Homemade uncased breakfast or Italian sausage (not at all difficult to make)
    • Marinated side pork (uncured bacon) cooked over a grill or campfire (this one is a total game changer)

    There’s a whole world of flavor and texture in a single animal, and learning to cook those different cuts can actually be fun. I plan to share more recipes and cooking ideas in future posts if you’re interested in exploring beyond the basics.

    There’s also the very practical side: having a full freezer of meat means:

    • Fewer last-minute grocery runs
    • Less impulse spending on convenience food
    • One less thing to juggle when life is busy

    With a little forward planning, you’re essentially building your own little “store” at home that you can shop from all year. When you’re tired, sick, or snowed in, knowing you have meat on hand for soups, roasts, tacos, casseroles, and quick meals is a huge relief.

    Supporting Local Farmers and Your Community

    When you purchase meat directly from a farmer, you’re helping someone keep their livelihood—not padding a middleman’s profit.

    Your money:

    • Goes directly to the person raising the animals
    • Stays in your local community
    • Helps a neighbor maintain their land, care for animals, and keep going another season

    Ideally, this relationship grows beyond a simple transaction. Over time, you get to know each other. You learn their rhythms and challenges; they learn about your family and your needs. Maybe they text you pictures of new piglets, or you bring your kids out to see the calves.

    You’re not just “a customer”—you’re part of the farm’s story too.

    In other words, you’re trading a little extra planning upfront for better meat, deeper connection, and a more secure pantry.

    How Buying Meat in Bulk from a Farmer Works

    Now that we’ve talked through the benefits, let’s look at how this actually works in practice.

    When you purchase meat directly from a farmer, you typically buy a portion of an animal, not just an individual package. You’ll usually be offered:

    • A quarter
    • A half
    • A whole

    The exact options depend on the type of animal and the farmer.

    Buying a Quarter or Half Beef

    A beef animal (steer) is large, so it’s commonly broken into quarters.

    • One quarter of beef usually equals around 200 pounds of freezer meat (this can vary based on size and breed).
    • A half or whole animal would, of course, be proportionally more.

    This sounds like a lot—and it is—but once you break it down into ground beef, roasts, steaks, stew meat, and soup bones, most families are surprised how quickly they use it over the course of a year. For many four-person families, a quarter beef can comfortably supply most of their beef for many months, if not close to a full year, depending on their eating habits.

    You’ll sometimes hear people call this a “quarter cow,” but “quarter beef” is the more accurate term.

    Buying a Half or Whole Pig

    Pigs are smaller, so they’re often sold as halves or wholes.

    • A half pig usually yields around 100 pounds of freezer meat.
    • A whole pig is roughly 200 pounds, give or take.
    The 2 boxes on the right show what a half pork looks like, labeled and packaged. The rest is my Amish suppies.

    The pork is split between bacon, ham, ground pork or sausage, and various cuts. For our four-person family, a whole hog is enough pork to last us about one year. Your experience may vary based on your family’s eating habits.

    Again, these are ballpark numbers, but they’re helpful for planning. You can always split a half or a whole with another family if that feels more manageable.

    Freezer Space for Bulk Meat Orders

    Buying a quarter of beef or a half pig means one very practical thing: you need somewhere to store it.

    A few things to consider:

    Freezer Type

    We use both a chest freezer and an upright freezer between our beef, pork, frozen garden vegetables, and other grocery store finds (yes, I do still grocery shop, but more like monthly). Either style works; it often comes down to space and personal preference.

    • Chest freezers tend to be more energy-efficient and stay cold longer if the power goes out.
    • Upright freezers are easier to organize and access because everything isn’t stacked on top of everything else.
    Our chest freezer full of frozen beef (this is what a quarter beef looks like).

    Finding a Freezer

    You can often find secondhand freezers at a bargain on places like Facebook Marketplace or local buy/sell groups if you’re willing to watch for deals and clean them. Just make sure you can test that it gets and stays cold before you bring it home.

    Electric Considerations

    Ideally, your freezer should be on a dedicated electrical circuit to reduce the risk of tripping a breaker and silently losing everything. If you’re unsure, it’s worth asking someone handy or an electrician to check.

    Power Outages

    If there is a power outage, resist the urge to open the freezer “just to check.” A closed, full freezer will stay cold much longer than you’d think. If your area loses power frequently, having a small generator on hand for your freezer might be worth considering.

    Think of your freezer as a savings account: that meat is your hard-earned money in frozen form. You want to protect it.

    Planning Ahead with Your Farmer

    Farmers can’t just create finished animals overnight. It takes time to raise them to a good butcher weight, and many farms book processing dates months in advance.

    As a rough guide:

    • A beef animal takes about 2 years to raise.
    • A pig takes about 6 months.

    Most farmers plan their processing schedule well ahead of time. If you’re thinking of buying meat in bulk:

    • Reach out to a farmer several months (or even a season) in advance.
    • Ask when they typically send animals to the processor.
    • Get on their list early, especially if they’re a smaller operation.

    You can also ask about breed and feeding practices (grass-fed, grain-finished, pasture-raised), so you know exactly what you’re getting.

    Building a Relationship While You Wait

    During that time, you can do more than just wait for a phone call.

    • Visit the farm if that’s an option.
    • Ask questions about how they feed and house animals.
    • Let your kids (if you have them) see where their food comes from and ask their own questions.

    Every farmer I know—and I know quite a few, thanks to my agricultural background—loves to talk about their animals. They’ll tell you about personalities, quirks, and challenges. For most of them, farming is a vocation, not just a job. They’re in it because they care.

    Understanding the Two Bills: Animal and Processing

    When the processing date gets closer, your farmer will reach out with more details, such as:

    • Which butcher/processing facility they’re using
    • The approximate hanging weight of the animal, and the price per pound for their part
    • The approximate date you can expect to pick up your meat

    This is also when you’ll want to understand how payment works. When you purchase directly from a farmer, you’re usually paying two separate bills:

    • The animal itself – paid directly to the farmer
    • The processing/butchering – paid directly to the butcher or processing facility

    The farmer can tell you their rate structure (per pound, flat rate, etc.), and the processor will have their own fee schedule based on your preferences—cutting, wrapping, curing, sausage-making, smoking, and so on.

    Working with the Butcher on Cut Choices

    Once the farmer takes the animal to the butcher shop, their part in the story is essentially done. Next, the butcher shop (to whom the farmer has passed along your contact information) will reach out with questions about how you want your meat processed.

    A good butcher will walk even the least experienced person through the process. Some examples of decisions include:

    • More roasts or more ground?
    • How thick do you want steaks or chops cut?
    • What kinds of sausage would you like, and in what size packages?
    • Do you want soup bones, organ meats, or extras like lard or fat?

    The possibilities are truly endless, and you can customize it in the way that works best for your cooking. One year, you might prefer 1‑pound packages of ground beef or pork; the next year, you might decide you’d rather have 1.5‑pound packages to better fit your favorite recipes. You can adjust as you learn what your family actually uses.

    Picking Up Your Bulk Meat Order

    The last part is picking up your meat from the butcher.

    • The processor will contact you when everything is cut, wrapped, and frozen, and they’ll share the total cost due to them.
    • It’s important to ask whether you need to bring coolers or boxes to store the meat on the way home. Some butchers provide boxes; others do not.

    There’s nothing worse than showing up unprepared and having 200 pounds of meat rolling around loose in your vehicle. Don’t ask me how I know.

    A few final tips:

    • Bring sturdy boxes or coolers so you can stack and carry the meat easily.
    • Bring a pair of gloves—the meat is cold and pre-frozen, and you don’t want frozen fingers by the time you’re done loading and unloading.
    • Make sure you have your freezer space ready and cleared before pickup day, so you’re not rearranging everything with a car full of thawing meat.

    It can feel more complicated than grabbing a package at the store, but once you’ve done it, it starts to make sense. And the reward is a freezer full of meat you feel good about, with a story you actually know—and a farmer you can call by name.

    Common Questions About Buying Meat from a Farmer

    Is it cheaper than grocery store meat?

    It depends on what you’re comparing it to.

    • If you usually buy the cheapest grocery store meat and the bargain cuts, buying from a farmer may cost a bit more per pound.
    • If you usually buy higher-quality or “natural” meat, buying in bulk from a farmer is often the same price or cheaper—and you’re getting better quality and supporting a local family.

    One important consideration is that you pay one price per pound of processed meat. This includes the more expensive cuts like pork belly or tenderloin, and the “lesser” cuts like spare ribs and pork hocks. The more expensive cuts come down in price compared to the grocery store, and the “lesser” cuts are typically at or slightly higher than grocery store prices.

    The biggest difference is that you’re paying for a large amount at once instead of spreading it out over many small trips—and all the tempting last-minute impulse purchases grocery stores are so good at encouraging.

    Do I have to take cuts I don’t know how to cook?

    No—and also, not forever.

    • You can customize your order a lot. For example, if you don’t like roasts, you can ask for more ground.
    • You can skip certain things (like organ meats) if you know you won’t use them.
    • Over time, you might decide to try one or two “new” cuts each year as your confidence grows.

    You’re not locked into one way of cutting forever; you can adjust each time you order.

    What if I don’t have enough freezer space for a whole or half animal?

    You have options:

    • Split a quarter or half with a friend or family member.
    • Ask your farmer if they know anyone looking to “share” an animal—many do.
    • Start smaller (for example, a quarter beef instead of a half, or half a pig instead of a whole).

    You don’t have to jump straight into a full animal on your first try.You have options:

    • Split a quarter or half with a friend or family member.
    • Ask your farmer if they know anyone looking to “share” an animal—many do.
    • Start smaller (for example, a quarter beef instead of a half, or half a pig instead of a whole).

    You don’t have to jump straight into a full animal on your first try.

    How long will the meat last in the freezer?

    If it’s wrapped well and kept consistently frozen:

    • Most cuts are best within 12–18 months, though many will last longer and still be safe to eat.
    • Ground meat is typically best within 6–12 months for peak quality.

    Labeling packages with the date and type of cut makes it much easier to rotate and use things in a good timeframe. A good butcher will do that for you.

    What if I’m nervous about making the wrong choices?

    You’re not alone—almost everyone feels that way the first time.

    A few reassurances:

    • Farmers and butchers are used to first-timers. They expect questions.
    • A good butcher will walk you through the options and explain what’s common for families like yours.
    • You can keep things simple your first time (basic steaks/chops, roasts, and ground), then get more adventurous with sausage, specialty cuts, and smoking on your next order.

    Think of your first bulk order as a learning experience. You’ll quickly figure out what your family uses most.

    If You’re Local and Want to Buy from Us

    If you’re local (Southeastern Wisconsin) and interested in buying pork from our homestead, we’d love to connect.

    Because raising and processing animals is a big investment, we use a simple reservation and deposit system so everyone knows what to expect:

    • You reserve a portion (half or whole) with a small non-refundable deposit.
    • We raise and deliver the animal to the butcher on the scheduled date.
    • Once we know the hanging weight and processing cost, we send you a clear invoice.
    • After payment, you pick up your meat at the butcher.

    If that sounds like something you’d like to explore—or if you just have questions—feel free to reach out. We’re happy to talk through the process and see whether it’s a good fit for your family.

    Have you ever bought a quarter beef, half pig, or other bulk meat from a farmer—or is it something you’ve been curious (or nervous) to try?

    If this helped answer some questions—or made buying meat from a farmer feel a little less intimidating—please like and share it with a friend who’s been talking about “finding a local farmer.” It makes a bigger difference than you think.

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    Read Next: Why I’d Change Food Safety Laws: The Homestead Pork Processing Cost Crisis

  • Spring Homestead Projects: Fruit Trees, Piglets, and Property Improvements

    Spring Homestead Projects: Fruit Trees, Piglets, and Property Improvements

    This spring on our homestead has been both chaotic and full of life. Between new animals, fresh plantings, and long-awaited property upgrades, it feels like everything is waking up at once. If you’re curious what real-life spring homestead projects look like for us—or looking for ideas for your own place—here’s what we’ve been up to.

    Spring Planting: Fruit Trees, Strawberries, and Garden Beds

    This spring, we’ve focused heavily on long-term food production. We planted new fruit trees, added strawberries, and finally started planting the garden.

    Fruit Trees

    We put in three apple trees to start planning ahead for the day when our older orchard slows down. Our established apple trees are slowly starting to die off, so these new trees are our way of making sure future us still has apples to harvest. In addition, we’ve planted two pear trees (because my 6-year-old son absolutely loves pears, and we love them too). All the fruit trees should start producing a small amount of fruit in about three years, with bigger harvests in the years after that. The kids are already talking about how they “can’t wait” to pick our own apples and pears someday.

    Strawberries

    We also planted 75 strawberry plants in three different varieties. About two-thirds are everbearing strawberries, which produce fruit throughout the growing season. The remaining third are June-bearing strawberries, the kind that give you that big flush of berries in June—what most people know from U-pick strawberry farms.

    Hard to see, but the strawberries are there!

    We’ll pinch the blossoms off the everbearing strawberries for the first couple of months while their root systems establish, then we’ll start letting them fruit. For the June-bearing strawberries, we’ll pinch all the blossoms this year so they can focus on roots, and we should start seeing fruit next summer. The kids are already excited, asking when they’ll get to pick strawberries and dreaming aloud about “strawberry snacks” straight from the garden.

    Field and Garden

    Out in the field, my husband planted our two-acre plot of oats, then tilled up a 120-foot by 30-foot field behind our barn (I know, cute) where we planted high population corn (planted more closely than typical field corn). These crops are intended to become feed for our pigs, chickens, and turkeys, which feels like a big step toward growing more of our own animal feed.

    Once the April flooding finally receded, we started planting the main garden. So far we’ve gotten radishes (the perfect cool-weather crop), rutabagas, parsnips, and transplanted onions in the ground. There’s still plenty more to do, but it feels good to see those first rows planted.

    Don’t judge my not-too-straight row of onions too harshly please!

    Spring Animal Projects: Piglets, Chicks, and Turkeys

    Anyone with animals knows that adding more livestock takes planning, patience, and a little bit of risk.

    Piglets

    Last year, we added two gilts to our pig herd and decided—almost on a whim—that we wanted to try farrowing piglets. Of course, biology says you can’t have piglets without a boar, so my brother-in-law graciously lent us his boar for two weeks in mid-January. In return, we helped him by cutting down a tree. Homestead barter at its finest.

    Mr. Eligible Bachelor (pink) as he wooed his lady.

    Next, we needed a safe space for piglets to be born and grow for the first several weeks. My husband converted an old dilapidated shed into functional farrowing quarters. He shored up rotten sections, set used silo staves in cement to make a makeshift floor, and built a farrowing crate from reclaimed wood. He even added lights, knowing we’d be checking on her at all hours until she finally gave birth.

    All ready for some babies!

    So far, one gilt has farrowed 10 piglets, and the second is due any day. We love having little babies around the homestead—it’s noisy, busy, and pretty wonderful.

    Our plan is to either sell some of the piglets as feeder pigs or raise them for pork that’s grown outside on pasture. If you’re local (SE WI) and interested in either, feel free to reach out.

    Chicks

    About a month ago, we also added to our poultry flock. We purchased 15 straight-run Wyandotte chicks and set them up in our basement. At the same time, I set up my incubator with 22 eggs.

    My first attempt at incubating eggs was a complete failure—I didn’t hatch a single chick from 47 eggs. Lesson learned: the orientation of the eggs in the incubator matters. They can’t be placed upright in egg cartons; they need to lie horizontally or they simply won’t develop.

    This time, with the eggs properly positioned, 10 chicks hatched and 9 survived. That gives us 24 new chicks total. In theory, about half will be roosters and half hens. We plan to keep one rooster as our new stud, and the rest of the roosters will eventually head to “freezer camp” and become shredded chicken for soups, broth, and casseroles (yes, I’m from Wisconsin, and we call it casserole). The kids love checking on the chicks in the brooder, counting them, and reporting back on who’s sleeping, who’s eating, and which one is “their” favorite.

    Turkeys

    Our turkeys have their own spring plans. Both turkey hens found separate hidden spots around the property to sit on nests—despite the small detail that there are no toms currently on the homestead. My husband decided to do a little switcheroo and swapped one turkey’s eggs for fertile chicken eggs. We’ll see if any of those end up hatching. There’s never a dull moment with birds.

    Property Improvements: Upstairs Progress and Cleanup

    Spring hasn’t been all about plants and animals; we’ve made progress on the house and property, too.

    Upstairs Progress

    For those who don’t know, we bought our house in 2023 with an unfinished upstairs. Earlier this month, carpet was finally installed in most of that space, and now we’re down to finishing touches like closet doors and furniture. The last third of the upstairs still needs to be completed, and we’re planning to add a bathroom upstairs so we don’t have to navigate steep stairs in the middle of the night.

    Outside Cleanup

    Outside, my husband has been on a mission to clean up the property again, hauling away loads of scrap metal. The plan for this summer is to shore up one of the existing buildings so we can use it as temporary cover for our equipment while we demolish old structures and replace them with something more functional.

    It’s a lot—but it’s the good kind of work.

    Spring on a homestead is always busy, but seeing these projects come together—fruit trees in the ground, piglets in the barn, chicks in the brooder, and an upstairs that finally feels like it’s becoming livable—makes all the mud, mess, and chaos feel worth it.

    It’s one more season of growing food, raising kids alongside all this work, and slowly building the kind of place we want to call home.

    What spring projects are you working on around your home or homestead right now—plants, animals, or house upgrades?

    If this gave you ideas—or just made you feel less alone in the spring chaos—tap like and share it with a friend who’s also growing, raising, or rebuilding something this season.

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    Read Next: Mid-Season Maple Syrup: 5 Gallons from 200 Gallons Sap

  • Our First Gilt Farrowed: 10 Piglets on a Monday Afternoon

    This is a shorter post this week, but it feels like a big one.

    We have piglets.

    On Monday afternoon, our first gilt farrowed 10 piglets (and one stillborn), and it was our first time experiencing pig farrowing firsthand. One minute we were checking on her like we had so many times before, and the next we were in the middle of something real and messy and alive. There’s no easing into it when it starts—you go from waiting to catching babies in what feels like a breath.

    At one point, the farrowing process stalled, which raised our anxiety pretty quickly. From what we’ve learned, pauses can happen during farrowing, but in the moment it’s hard to know when to wait and when to step in. We hovered, second-guessed ourselves, and tried to stay calm. In the end, she worked through it on her own, which was both a relief and a reminder that animals often know exactly what to do if we give them space.

    Once the piglets were here, things shifted into action mode. We cleaned them off, making sure each one was breathing well and able to stay warm. My brother-in-law walked us through administering oxytocin so she could relax and start nursing. Watching those piglets root and latch felt like a turning point—less “are we going to be okay?” and more “okay, this is working.”

    Momma and babies as they attached for the first time.

    We stayed with her for the first couple of hours, keeping a close eye out so no piglets were accidentally crushed. One thing we learned quickly is how important it is to watch the sow’s movements closely, especially when she shifts or lays down. It’s a strange balance of awe and vigilance. Every small movement feels important. Every squeal makes you look twice—and resist the urge to intervene to prevent piglet crushing.

    This is the part of raising animals, and growing food, that doesn’t always make it into the highlight reel. It’s messy, a little nerve-wracking, and very real. But it’s also where the learning happens: in the doing, in the watching, and in showing up before you feel fully ready.

    And maybe that’s the overlap I keep noticing lately—between raising animals and raising kids. You prepare as much as you can, gather advice, set things up the “right” way… and then you step back and let life unfold, staying close enough to help but far enough away to let growth happen.

    Right now, the piglets are tucked in close to momma, and we’re checking on them more often than we probably need to. It feels a little like bringing home a newborn again—equal parts wonder, worry, and watching something new take its first steps in the world.

    Growing food, raising kids, building community… sometimes all three show up at once, in a farrowing pen on a Monday afternoon.

    Have you ever been present for an animal birth on your farm? What surprised you most?

    If this little farrowing story made you smile (or taught you something), please like and share with fellow homesteaders!

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    Read Next: First-Time Pig Farrowing Prep: What We’re Doing Before Our Mother’s Day Litter

  • First-Time Pig Farrowing Prep: What We’re Doing Before Our Mother’s Day Litter

    First-Time Pig Farrowing Prep: What We’re Doing Before Our Mother’s Day Litter

    Preparing for our first-time pig farrowing feels a bit like bracing for a homestead hurricane. We’ve pored over library books, talked with several experienced pig farmers, and built out our setup—all in anticipation of our first gilt farrowing on Mother’s Day weekend, with the second following about a week later.

    She doesn’t even know she’s about to be a momma!

    Here’s how we’re getting ready to welcome these piglets.

    Research Meets Real Talk

    We’ve devoured books on pig reproduction—favorites include Storey’s Guide to Raising Pigs and various university extension guides—while my husband has gathered insight from a couple of experienced local pig farmers.

    The most memorable advice? “Make sure the piglets have a place to get away from their mom if her hormones kick in and she starts stomping around.” It’s the kind of practical wisdom that no book quite captures.

    Building Farrowing Infrastructure

    My husband jumped into a crash course on setup, spending about two weeks transforming a dilapidated shed into a functional farrowing space.

    We poured a concrete floor using old silo staves set in mortar, framed the interior with reclaimed barn tin, added electricity and a small light, and built a piglet-only area where mom can’t reach. A heat lamp hangs over that space to keep them warm and safe.

    The piglets will stay inside for 30–60 days depending on the weather, but since they’re arriving in mid-May, we’re hopeful it will be closer to 30 before they can start venturing out. In the meantime, we’ve also reinforced a space between several of our outbuildings so they’ll eventually be able to enjoy the outdoors. The front is framed with reclaimed bunk pieces—nothing fancy, but solid and functional.

    Front of pen made from reclaimed cow bunk

    Vaccination and Nutrition Boost

    We administered the FarrowSure vaccine before conception to help prevent scours and erysipelas.

    We’re also adjusting their feed after realizing we let them overeat for a bit too long. They’re now on controlled portions of about four pounds per gilt each day, which they’re not exactly thrilled about. Most nights, they root their straw bedding into chaos, but scattering corn kernels around the pen has helped redirect that energy into foraging instead of destruction.

    Spotting Mama’s Behavior Cues

    As the due dates get closer, we’re watching carefully for signs. Their udders began swelling about 3–5 weeks ahead of time, and we’re told that nesting and restlessness usually mean we’re within 24 hours. When that’s paired with grunting and constant lying down and getting back up, it’s likely go time.

    What Could Go Wrong—and How We’re Preparing

    The risks feel big right now, especially going into our first litter. There’s overlay—a 400-pound gilt rolling onto 2-pound piglets—as well as the chance a first-time mom might reject her litter or that weaker piglets will need help getting colostrum.

    As one farmer told us, “Your first litter teaches you more than all the books.” With that in mind, we’re relying on our crate setup and rails to reduce the biggest risks while staying realistic about the learning curve ahead.

    What’s Next for Us

    About a week out, we’ll move the gilts into their farrowing space, begin daily udder checks, reinforce anything that looks questionable, and give the FarrowSure booster.

    We’re expecting somewhere between 10–16 piglets and feeling equal parts nervous and excited. The plan, at least for now, is to sell about half and raise the rest for pork—but we’ll see what kind of interest there is.

    Have you ever gone through a first farrowing? What caught you off guard—or what would you do differently next time?

    If you’re raising pigs—or thinking about it—tap like and share this with someone who’s in the thick of homestead life too. It helps more than you know 🤍

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    Read Next: Our Biggest Homesteading Challenge: First-Time Pig Farrowing

  • Our Biggest Homesteading Challenge: First-Time Pig Farrowing

    Our Biggest Homesteading Challenge: First-Time Pig Farrowing

    Daily writing prompt
    What is the biggest challenge you will face in the next six months?
    View all responses

    Over the next six months, our biggest homesteading challenge will be learning how to nurture new life on our homestead. Specifically, helping two first-time pig moms safely deliver and raise their piglets around Mother’s Day.

    From Meat Pigs to Breeding Gilts

    My husband and I have raised pigs on our homestead for two years, mostly for meat. Last year we ended up with two young gilts originally intended for processing. But as we watched their personalities emerge and realized we had enough pigs for last year’s orders, we made a different choice.

    These two became our first step into pig breeding territory, which meant learning winter pig care for full-size gilts. We’ve learned cold weather management, water access, mud containment, and the general chaos of long-term livestock keeping.

    Pig Breeding: No Swipe-Right App Required

    Pig breeding doesn’t come with modern dating apps. Artificial insemination is possible but tricky for homesteaders like us without the required training and equipment. So we borrowed a boar from family for two weeks instead. The boar settled immediately, smacking his lips (apparently a pig mating technique we’ve never heard of before).

    The eligible bachelorettes couldn’t get enough of him. They went from wary strangers, sniffing and posturing through social hierarchy, to “getting lucky” overnight. It was equal parts farm practicality and genuine wonder about new life coming to our land.

    The Farrowing Timeline

    Pig gestation follows the classic 3 months, 3 weeks, 3 days timeline. If our calculations hold, Gilt #1 farrows around Mother’s Day 2026, with Gilt #2 following about a week later. It’s perfect timing for our first experience with pig birth coinciding with a holiday celebrating mothers.

    What Makes First-Time Farrowing Challenging

    First-time farrowing intimidates me most. New sows face surging hormones, labor pain, and instincts they don’t yet understand. They sometimes pace frantically or accidentally step on newborns while nesting.

    My grandfather, a lifelong pig man, stayed up all night in farrowing barns watching over nervous moms. He would even give them small amounts of whiskey to mellow them out—an old-school remedy I’m definitely not trying.

    Our Farrowing Preparations

    We’re preparing by seeking advice from local old timers with experience. We’re also acquiring and staging farrowing crates and deep straw bedding for their comfort.

    Success to us means 8-12 healthy piglets per litter with thriving moms and minimal intervention.

    Why Piglets Are Worth Every Challenge

    Homestead piglets represent more than cute photos—they’re future meat pigs, potential breeders, or weaned piglets for local sale. But truly, watching new life stumble into the world with tiny hooves, squeaky snouts, and wobbly legs racing their mama captures pure homestead magic worth every sleepless night.

    What’s your next big homesteading challenge? Pig farrowing, goat kidding, chick hatching? Share below—someone needs your wisdom.

    If you’re facing pig farrowing, goat kidding, or any livestock birth for the first time, LIKE + SHARE this with your homestead crew!

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    Read Next: I Never Wanted Pigs Until They Changed My Homesteading Life

  • Why I’d Change Food Safety Laws: The Homestead Pork Processing Cost Crisis

    Why I’d Change Food Safety Laws: The Homestead Pork Processing Cost Crisis

    Daily writing prompt
    If you had the power to change one law, what would it be and why?
    View all responses

    Why I Would Change Food Safety Laws for Homesteaders and Small Farms

    I would change food safety laws—not to make food less safe, but to make them more personal, local, and community-centered for homesteaders and small farms who want to sell direct to their neighbors.

    Current food safety regulations overwhelmingly favor industrial giants over small-scale farmers. They’re built around the assumption that all our food comes from nameless corporations and massive processing plants located hundreds of miles away, placing all trust and responsibility out there with distant regulators. The practical result? It’s dramatically easier for a huge company to manufacture and distribute shelf-stable, ultra-processed food across the entire nation than it is for the family down the road to legally sell you homegrown pork or a backyard chicken they raised themselves with care.

    The Homestead Processing Cost Barrier

    Here’s our homestead reality: My family raises our own pigs right here on our land, pouring love and quality feed into every animal. But when it comes time to process them, the USDA processing costs make our homestead pork 3x more expensive per pound than the stuff at the grocery store. Those mandatory, government-inspected facilities charge small-batch farmers like us up to 3x higher per pound because we can’t meet their high-volume minimums. Cross one state line or trigger one additional regulation, and suddenly small farms like ours simply can’t compete with factory-farmed bacon that’s been shipped cross-country. The current system prioritizes industrial food safety over practical direct-to-consumer meat options that build real relationships.

    Why Food Safety Regulations Exist

    I completely understand why these food safety regulations exist in the first place—I read The Jungle by Upton Sinclair. The book exposed absolutely horrifying conditions in early 20th-century meatpacking plants: rats running through meat, workers falling into rendering tanks, sawdust and chemicals covering everything. Those food safety laws that followed genuinely saved countless lives and cleaned up a dangerous industry. But in the century since, ordinary people have gradually offloaded personal food safety responsibility onto those same labels, USDA stamps, and distant inspectors. We’ve largely forgotten the common-sense skills our grandparents used to judge food quality ourselves—smell, sight, source.

    Modern Food Safety Failures

    Even with all these regulations, industrial food safety still fails spectacularly and regularly. Meat recalls, produce outbreaks, and contamination in shelf-stable items make headlines every single year—the CDC tracks 128,000 salmonella cases annually, with the vast majority tied to conventional industrial sources, not local farms. This proves knowing your food source matters more than ever, especially when “regulated” supply chains break down. Plus, fresher local food simply tastes better—don’t believe me? Crack open a factory-raised egg next to one from pasture-raised chickens allowed outside to eat grass and bugs. The deep orange yolk color, richer flavor, and firmer texture in the local egg will convince anyone on the spot.

    My Food Law Change for Small Farms

    If I could change one law, I’d create tiered food safety regulations: light-touch rules for small-scale direct sales (under 1,000 lbs/year, strictly on-farm or direct-to-consumer only) paired with mandatory honest labeling and full transparency, while keeping strict oversight for anything headed to commercial scale. This isn’t either/or—keep industrial options for convenience, unlock local for those ready. This would finally enable practical local meat processing, community butchering days where neighbors share skills and tools, and simple backyard chicken sales—without the slippery slope of scale creep into larger operations.

    Not reckless at all—consumer choice plus farm transparency (visit anytime, ask questions, see living conditions firsthand) beats blind trust in a logo every time. Custom-exempt processors already work extremely safely for personal use; we just need to thoughtfully extend that proven model.

    Reclaim Food Freedom and Community

    With smarter food safety laws, homesteaders could finally save real money by skipping expensive middlemen and mandatory big-facility processing. Families would reclaim food sovereignty through hands-on knowledge, kids would actually see where food comes from instead of just trusting packaging, and entire communities would grow stronger around this shared, meaningful work—swapping time-tested recipes, teaching traditional skills, and caring for the land in hands-on ways our great-grandparents took for granted.

    Safety comes from knowing your farmer personally, combined with those great-grandparents’ practical skills and smart, tiered rules. Better food regulations would deliver healthier eating, stronger communities, and the local food freedom we’ve quietly lost over generations.

    Feature Photo by engin akyurt on Unsplash

    Want to dive deeper? Read The Omnivore’s Dilemma by Michael Pollan—it brilliantly unpacks exactly these tensions in modern food systems.

    If this resonates with your homesteading journey, like + share to help other families reclaim their food freedom! What food law would YOU change? Drop it in the comments! 👇

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    Read Next: What I’d Uninvent: Addictive Convenience Foods Working Moms Hate

  • What I Complain About Most: Why Farmers Deserve More Appreciation (And How We’re Reconnecting)

    What I Complain About Most: Why Farmers Deserve More Appreciation (And How We’re Reconnecting)

    Daily writing prompt
    What do you complain about the most?
    View all responses

    I used to be a champion complainer—until I realized it never planted a single seed worth growing.

    I try not to complain too much. It’s a nasty habit that usually leaves me feeling worse than before I started. Instead, I try to live by the words of the Serenity Prayer:

    “God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
    The courage to change the things I can,
    And the wisdom to know the difference.”

    When I catch myself slipping into that spiral of frustration, I remind myself of those lines. If there’s something I can fix, I get to work on it. If there isn’t, I try to shift my perspective. Some days, that works beautifully. Other days, not so much—but it’s a practice, and a worthwhile one.

    When Passion Comes from Frustration

    Still, there are some things bigger than myself that I can’t quite let go of—issues that deserve our collective attention. That’s where my frustration tends to turn into passion.

    If you really want to know what gets me on my soapbox, it’s this: how undervalued the foundation of our society has become—the farmer.

    Lessons from the Milking Barn

    I grew up on a dairy farm surrounded by fields, animals, and five hardworking older sisters. My dad, like many farmers, cautioned us not to follow in his footsteps. He didn’t say that out of bitterness; he said it out of love.

    He knew farming demanded endless hours, uncertain pay, and a body that rarely got a day off. The cows still needed milking before dawn, even after a night of broken sleep or if you were sick. The hay still needed to come in, even if rain clouds were gathering on the horizon. And no matter how hard you worked, the weather or the market could undo it all in a single season. With today’s global markets, that uncertainty feels even sharper than it did thirty years ago.

    The Great Disconnect

    Despite all that labor, society often treats farmers as an afterthought. We depend on them for our most basic need: food. Yet we seem disconnected from what it truly takes to put dinner on the table. It’s astonishing how quickly that disconnect happened. In just two or three generations, we’ve gone from home gardens, backyard chickens, and canning jars in the pantry to drive‑thru dinners and foods that travel thousands of miles before reaching us.

    Our modern food system is complicated. We’ve gained convenience but lost some wisdom along the way—wisdom about soil, seasons, and self‑sufficiency. Many children have never pulled a carrot from the ground or gathered a fresh egg. Even adults often feel surprised to learn where their food comes from.

    Marketing Replaces Memory

    Not long ago, I saw a potato chip bag proudly labeled “Made with Real Potatoes,” as if that were some sort of revelation. It made me laugh—and then it made me sad.

    Somewhere along the way, marketing replaced knowledge. We began trusting brands more than the soil, and food became a product instead of a shared experience. When I mentioned it on my Facebook page, people chimed in from everywhere. It turns out, so many of us feel the same way—grateful for convenience, but yearning to reconnect.

    Growing, Raising, and Reconnecting

    That little moment reminded me why I care so deeply about growing food, raising kids, and building community. These things are intertwined. When children understand where their meals come from, when we grow even a small piece of what we eat, when neighbors come together to share skills, seeds, and harvests—we start to rebuild that lost connection. Even something as simple as buying from a local farmers market, planting herbs on a windowsill, or teaching a child how to cook can make a difference.

    So maybe I don’t really complain all that much anymore. Maybe what I’m doing is something better: advocating, educating, and planting small seeds of change and connection in my backyard and in my community. Because while I can’t change the world overnight, I can nurture the soil right in front of me. And that feels like a pretty good start.

    Resources I Recommend

    Disclosure: This section contains Amazon affiliate links. If you purchase through them, I may earn a small commission at no extra cost to you. Thank you for supporting Practical Homesteading!

    If this post stirred something in you, here are a few places to start learning, growing, and preserving more of your own food. I only share resources I truly find useful.

    • Read and reflect: One book that has deeply shaped how I think about food and farming is The Omnivore’s Dilemma by Michael Pollan. It follows several different meals from source to table and invites you to really consider where your food comes from and who grows it. You can buy it in my link or borrow it from your local library.
    • Learn the basics of preserving: The Ball Book of Preserving is a solid, economical place to start if you’re new to canning. It covers the fundamentals clearly without feeling overwhelming, and it’s a great first step into safe home food preservation.
    • Go deeper with more recipes: The Ball Complete Book of Home Preserving is a much more comprehensive resource, with many more recipes and techniques. It’s a bigger investment, but worth it if you discover that preserving is something you love and want to keep expanding.
    • My home preservation essentials: I’ve put together an Amazon list of tools and books I use or recommend for dehydrating, canning, and freezing food at home. You can find it here: Home Preservation Essentials.

    If you have favorite books, tools, or simple tips for beginners who want to grow or preserve their own food, please share them in the comments—I’d love to learn from you, too!

    Loved this? Hit that ❤️ if it resonated. Share with a friend who needs to hear it. Subscribe for more real talk about growing food and building community. Your support means everything!

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  • What I’d Tell My Homestead Turkeys: You’re Safe Here

    What I’d Tell My Homestead Turkeys: You’re Safe Here

    If you could make your pet understand one thing, what would it be?

    Disclosure: This post contains affiliate links. As an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases. Thanks for supporting Practical Homesteading!

    Every morning, our little homestead stirs to life—snorts, clucks, rustles, and all. The pigs grunt impatiently for breakfast, the chickens dart around my boots like gossipy toddlers, and the black cat takes her morning post on the fence, tail flicking in quiet judgment.

    And then there are the turkeys—watching from their enclosure, eyes wide, feathers puffed, too afraid to venture near the very hands that feed and bed them.

    If I could make my animals understand just one thing, I’d tell them, “You are safe and valued, every single day you’re here.”

    The truth is, one day we will butcher the turkeys. That’s part of the rhythm of the homestead life—raising animals with respect, giving them good days filled with deep bedding, and ensuring they’re never hungry or afraid. But that doesn’t make their time here any less meaningful. It actually makes the responsibility deeper. If they could understand one thing, I’d want them to know that their days matter. That their comfort matters. That I’m grateful for the life they live and the life they’ll one day give .

    The pigs already seem to get it. They’ll eat, play, and then flop into straw with satisfied sighs, blissfully unbothered by anything beyond their next meal. The chickens scurry and squawk, confident in the routine they’ve built around their 25 lb self-feeder (affiliate link) and DIY 5-gallon bucket waterer (affiliate link). Even Black Cat, aloof as he pretends to be, knows he belongs to this rhythm—this gently imperfect, beautifully grounded life we share .

    That’s what sustainability really means to me—caring deeply, even when the hard parts come. I can’t explain to my animals that I love them, that I worry about them on cold nights, or that I always want their lives to be good ones. But I can show it. Through full buckets, soft hay, and calm voices. Through care that doesn’t need translation.

    Because this life, this work, is built on gratitude—on giving more than we take, and honoring every part of the cycle that feeds us. And if my animals could understand that, even for a moment, it would be enough.

    If your animals could understand one truth, what would you tell them? Comment below 👇

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  • Why I Chose Homesteading

    Why I Chose Homesteading

    Disclosure: This post contains affiliate links. As an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases. Thanks for supporting Practical Homesteading!

    I turn 36 this week, and it feels like as good a time as any to tell you who I am.

    I am

    • a wife
    • a working mother of 2 beautiful children
    • an environmental professional
    • a homesteader
    • a gardener
    • a reader
    • an animal caretaker
    • an aspiring writer (the blog you’re reading is me practicing)
    • an amateur historian
    • a perfectionist
    • a ruminator
    • a friend
    • a daughter
    • a sister

    Growing Up on a Wisconsin Dairy Farm
    I grew up on a family dairy farm in Southeastern Wisconsin during the 1990s—a tough decade when small operations were disappearing fast.

    Our farm had a 60-cow herd through years of economic stress. In 2001, we sold the herd and rented the land to a larger operation. By then, my five older sisters had mostly moved on. My parents took “city jobs”—Ma at the local grocery store, Dad first as a farmhand, then for a local drilling company. They bought beef cattle for me to raise through my teen years.

    The Teenage Rebel Who Wanted Out
    Before my dad took over from his father, farmers traveled no more than a mile to access all their land. By the time he changed careers 25 years later, some had to drive an hour or more to reach the farthest corners of their acreage. The world I grew up in was already shifting fast beneath my feet.

    But as a teenager, I couldn’t have cared less about the cattle I was entrusted with. Farming felt pointless. I was determined to “get out of Dodge County” and go to college in nearby Madison. Books came easily to me, and I wore that like armor. I had a chip on my shoulder—I thought I was smarter than the farm life, better than staying put, that I had everything figured out.

    Pride, Pain, and Coming Back to Earth
    Pride comes before a fall, as they say. I never had one dramatic crash, but I had low moments that humbled me.

    When I was 17, I sustained serious burn injuries on my arms and chest. I received skin grafts on my arms. I spent a long season wrestling with shame and the fact that I was marked by scars. When I finally reached Madison—the dream I’d chased—I felt small next to high achievers who hadn’t come from farms and had flawless skin.

    Even after landing a job as an environmental professional, I stood in rooms feeling inadequate beside people who seemed to know so much more. It took years to accept I wasn’t the smartest person in the room—but I still had something valuable to offer.

    Love, Long Courtship, and Hotel-Hopping 20s
    I started dating my now-husband at 19. We’d known each other longer, but that’s when our story began. He didn’t grow up on a farm but found agriculture fascinating. He thought it was neat that I’d spent my childhood around cows, even as I ran away from that identity.

    After a long courtship, we married when I was 27. We loved each other deeply, but finding our rhythm took time. Through trial and error, we landed on shared ground: children, homesteading, and country living.

    All along, I’d quietly loved making things from scratch, even if I didn’t call it homesteading. Freshman year of college, I made pizza entirely from scratch (except the cheese). It took three times longer than it should have. I ruined zucchini bread by confusing tablespoons for teaspoons of salt. Junior year, I bought a crockpot (affiliate link) that made my dorm floor jealous of the dinner smells wafting from my room.

    Motherhood Opened My Eyes
    I graduated grad school at 24 and we moved near Green Bay for my job. For the next six years—my freewheeling late 20s—we traveled heavily—for work and fun—with each other, family, and friends. Hotels became our second home. It was a wonderful season of freedom I hated to see end.

    Then I had my son just before turning 30. Motherhood was like someone handing me color television after a lifetime of black-and-white. The challenges were endless—physical, emotional, exhausting. But when he smiled and grabbed my finger with his tiny, chunky hand, everything faded. I wanted to be better for him.

    That first year coincided with Covid. No village. Husband working a lot. Our beautiful house on 18 acres of “dream land” suddenly felt hollow. Land doesn’t raise children. Pride in property lines doesn’t fill the gaps. As we talked about baby number two, we made a deliberate choice: we moved back to our hometown near Mayville, Wisconsin.

    Photo by Markus Spiske on Unsplash

    Choosing This Life Freely
    I watched our family navigate those farm changes—not out of obligation, but circumstance. Now I’m choosing this life freely. We’re gardening, raising chickens, baking bread, and raising kids.

    The girl who couldn’t wait to escape Dodge County returned on her own terms. At 36, I’m still learning I don’t need to be the smartest person in the room—just someone who shows up, learns, and shares.

    This blog is me doing that. Someone standing in the middle of her story. Rooted, growing, still in progress.

    Practical Homesteading: growing food, raising kids, building community.

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