Category: Spring

  • How a Simple Venison Stir Fry Taught Our Family the Heart of Homesteading

    How a Simple Venison Stir Fry Taught Our Family the Heart of Homesteading

    There’s something special about meals that tell a story. The kind of food that’s more than a recipe — but part of life. For us, that story came together in one simple dish: a homemade venison stir fry. It started months ago in the garden, wound through a winter greenhouse, and ended at a table surrounded by six hungry, happy faces. This wasn’t only food, but it a reminder of why we homestead in the first place.


    A Stir Fry That Tells a Story

    We had venison stir fry for dinner recently, a meal that smells like effort and tastes like reward. Stir fry always means chopping, sizzling, and a little chaos in the kitchen, but every bite feels like celebration. The dish is never quite the same for us. It shifts with the seasons and whatever our garden and freezer produce. That’s part of its beauty — it’s a living reflection of our homestead.


    From Seed to Skillet

    The story of this particular stir fry starts late last winter when we started onion and pepper seeds inside. We watched them grow, and my son delighted in trimming the onion shoots to give more life to the roots. Come spring, we pressed carrot seeds into the earth and transplanted our onions and bell peppers. By summer, our days smelled sweet and green. My kids loved pulling up carrots, brushing off dirt, and biting in right there in the garden. Their juice was sweeter than candy. The onions swelled to the size of softballs. When their stalks dried, we cured them in the basement. Then we set them inside old fruit crates beside jars of last year’s preserves. Peppers overflowed in waves of green, so I bagged and froze them for colder days.

    Onions as they first sprouted from the ground.
    Mature onion, ready for harvest
    Peppers galore!

    Homesteading tip: Frozen bell peppers don’t need blanching. To preserve, just slice, seed, and freeze them raw for perfect stir fry texture later.  Onions can be cured and placed in a cool dark place to keep over winter.

    By November, we tucked our last carrots under straw, the soil still holding its warmth like a secret.


    Winter’s Sweetest Harvest

    In December, I scraped away snow and straw with my bare hands to dig some carrots. (A mistake I won’t repeat — frostbite nearly earned an invitation to dinner.) My son peeled them eagerly, and when we tasted the first one raw, its sweetness floored us. Cold turns carrots into sugar. They’re winter candy disguised as vegetables.

    Homesteading note: A thick straw mulch keeps carrots from freezing and lets you harvest them into early winter.

    Winter carrots

    Greenhouse Gold

    The bok choy came from a new experiment. I helped my experienced friend start a winter garden. I still remember stepping into her small greenhouse surrounded by snow. The chill outside vanished into crisp air that smelled of soil and life. Beneath soft covers, green leaves glowed faintly in the filtered light. Harvesting bok choy in December felt like a small miracle.

    Winter gardening tip: A simple plastic-covered hoop house and landscape fabric over each row can extend your growing season by months. The flavor difference in fresh winter greens is unbelievable.

    Bok choy harvested in December

    Family in the Kitchen

    Cooking became a family affair. My daughter stood at my side, eyes watering over the cutting board, proudly dropping onion slices into the container as I sliced them. My six-year-old son learned how to make rice that night — a big responsibility. We’d bought the rice from our local scratch-and-dent store for much less than retail. It wasn’t something we grew ourselves, but it was another way to live intentionally, supporting local businesses and stretching our budget.

    He measured the rice, water, and bouillon with quiet focus, stirring carefully to break up every clump. Watching his concentration, I realized that learning to cook simple staples might be one of the best skills a homesteader’s child can develop.

    Parenting philosophy: Give your children small but meaningful jobs in the kitchen as you cook.  It takes the burden from you to endlessly entertain them, and they learn real life skills.


    Wild Meat, Real Gratitude

    The venison came from the road. This deer was recently hit by a car, and my husband found it on his way to town one chilly fall day. He hauled it home, and that night he and his dad processed every usable piece. We made jerky from some and froze the rest for meals like this. There’s a quiet satisfaction in knowing exactly where your food came from, in salvaging instead of wasting.

    Homesteading philosophy: Nothing should go to waste. This includes an animal, harvest, and opportunity to teach your children how to create value from what’s available.


    From Skillet to Supper Table

    When it was time to cook, I sliced the venison thin while half-frozen and marinated it overnight. The next day, the meat hit the hot skillet — hissing, sizzling — browning into tender, caramelized pieces. My kids stole bites faster than I could cook them.

    Cooking tip: Slice meat against the grain while it’s half-frozen for cleaner cuts and more tender results. This small trick makes all the difference with lean game meat like venison.

    The vegetables followed: frozen peppers releasing water that deglazed the pan. The onions soaked up the sauce until they were golden brown. The carrots softened just a bit. The bok choy folded gently into the mix. The whole kitchen filled with the earthy perfume of garlic, soy, and family.


    Six Around the Table

    By dinner, the six of us — our little family and my husband’s parents — gathered around a steaming pot of rice and a glossy pot of stir fry. It wasn’t just delicious; it was ours — every part grown, harvested, found, or crafted by hand. That’s the heart of homesteading for me. It’s not simply saving money or knowing what’s in your food. It’s seeing how the garden dirt beneath your nails, a salvaged deer, and a child’s curiosity can all end up in the same bowl. It’s nourishment that carries the story of your family’s seasons.


    Homestead Notes

    • Preserve what you grow: Freeze peppers raw and store onions in breathable boxes.
    • Extend your harvest: Straw-mulched carrots and cold-frame greens can provide fresh food even in winter.
    • Use what you have: Venison, garden vegetables, and discounted pantry staples can turn a simple meal into a story.
    • Teach through involvement: Kids remember the meals they helped make far more than the food they simply ate.

    If our venison stir fry story stirred something in you — a memory, a craving, or just a bit of inspiration to slow down and cook what you grow — we’d love for you to join our little homestead circle.


    Click like if you enjoyed this story. Share it with someone who’d appreciate the journey from seed to supper. Subscribe to follow along as we grow, cook, and live season by season.

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    #Homesteading #FarmToTable #FromGardenToTable #SustainableLiving #HomeCooking #SeasonalEating #VenisonRecipes #GrowYourOwnFood #WinterHarvest #KidsInTheKitchen #FoodWithAStory #IntentionalLiving #SlowFood

  • The Bridge Between Winter and Summer

    The Bridge Between Winter and Summer

    What’s your favorite month of the year? Why?

    There’s a month each year that feels like an awakening. It’s the bridge between the quiet of winter and the warmth of summer. Mornings still hold a trace of chill, but the afternoons fill with soft sunlight and the scent of growing things. Lawns turn lush almost overnight, trees leaf out in a rush, and every breeze carries life.

    It’s the season when the world feels generous. The lilacs bloom and perfume the air. The smell of freshly tilled earth lingers after rain, rich and full of promise. At local markets, the first asparagus appears, bright and green, and on weekend mornings, I wander through the woods searching for morel mushrooms hidden in the damp leaves. Each small find feels like a sign that the year is turning toward abundance.

    This is also when I start to dream about summer—camping trips, evenings outside with friends, the first meals eaten under open sky. The days grow longer, and with them, my sense of possibility swells. Even something as simple as walking outside in a T-shirt after months of layers feels like freedom.

    This month, alive with growth and memory, also carries personal meaning—it’s when I got married, surrounded by blossoms and soft light. The world seems to celebrate right alongside me each year as it blooms again.

    My favorite month is May.



    Thanks for taking a walk through my favorite time of year with me. If this story brought to mind your own favorite month or ritual of renewal, share it in the comments—I’d love to hear it.

    And if you enjoy reflections on nature, food, and the changing seasons, don’t forget to like, share, and subscribe for more.

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