Maybe it’s just my algorithm. Or maybe half of America really is trying to buy a few acres, plant a garden, get some chickens, and learn how to make sourdough bread. Either way, I get it.

Because lately, I’ve found myself dreaming about it too. And when I say dreaming, I mean dreaming. I’ve planned gardens I don’t have. I’ve decided which animals I’d like to raise. I’ve thought about a little farmstand at the end of the driveway. I’ve imagined family dinners made with food we grew ourselves. I’ve even created an entire proposal for my husband about a future homestead on land we do not currently own. So apparently, we’re serious. Or I have entirely too much time and access to Canva. Honestly, it could go either way.

But the more I’ve thought about this dream, the more I’ve realized that I don’t think the sudden fascination with homesteading is really about chickens. At least it isn’t for me.

Maybe We’re Just Tired of Everything Being So Fast

I’m 58 years old, and I feel like I’ve spent a good portion of my adult life hurrying. Hurrying to have children. Hurrying to get the kids where they needed to be. Hurrying through the grocery store. Hurrying to make dinner. Hurrying through one season because something else was already waiting for us in the next one. And now that my children are grown and I’m in this very different season of life, I’m starting to ask myself a question I probably didn’t have time to ask twenty years ago:

What do I actually want my life to feel like?

Not what do I want to accomplish. Not what do I want to own. Not even where do I want to live. What do I want an ordinary Tuesday to feel like?

And my answer keeps coming back to the same things. Slower. Healthier. More connected. More intentional. That’s when the homestead dream starts making a lot more sense.

I Don’t Want to Escape Life. I Want to Be More Present for It

There’s a romantic version of homesteading on the internet that I’m smart enough not to completely fall for. I know goats aren’t going to feed themselves because I’m tired. I know gardens grow weeds. I know chickens poop. A lot, apparently.

And I’m fairly certain that “living a slower life” doesn’t mean there’s actually less work involved. In many ways, there would probably be more. So no, I’m not imagining myself floating through a field in a linen dress with a basket of freshly picked vegetables while inspirational music plays in the background. Although let’s be honest. If I ever grow enough tomatoes to fill a basket, there WILL be pictures.

What appeals to me isn’t doing less. It’s doing more of the things that feel meaningful. Growing something. Cooking something. Preserving something. Taking care of animals. Sitting down for dinner. Teaching somebody a recipe instead of just sending them a link to one.

Those things take effort. But there’s a difference between being busy and being fulfilled. And maybe at this age I’m finally starting to understand that.

Maybe We’re Craving Things That Feel Real

We’ve made life incredibly convenient. Groceries can show up at our front door. Dinner can arrive in thirty minutes. We can order almost anything we want from our phones without ever leaving the couch. And listen, I’m not giving all of that up. Nobody needs to confiscate my grocery pickup app in the name of simpler living.

But I do think all that convenience has made me appreciate the things that require a little effort. There’s something different about making a recipe that has been passed through your family. There’s something satisfying about opening a jar of something you preserved yourself. There’s something almost miraculous about putting a tiny seed into dirt and eventually getting food from it. I think we’re craving that connection again. Connection to our food. Connection to the seasons. Connection to our families. Maybe even connection to ourselves.

For Me, It’s Also About Legacy

This may be the part of the dream that matters most to me. I don’t want a big commercial farm. I don’t want to build some giant business that eventually owns me instead of the other way around.

I want a family place. I want recipes being made in the kitchen and vegetables coming in from the garden. I want chickens wandering around somewhere they probably aren’t supposed to be. I want family dinners and holidays and grandchildren who associate that place with being together. I want MY cookbook to someday contain recipes that aren’t just from my bakery days, but from this next chapter too. Maybe one day there will be recipes made with blueberries we grew, vegetables from our garden, or something I learned to preserve during one of my grand adventures in figuring all of this out.

I want to create traditions that don’t disappear when I’m gone. And I think that’s one of the reasons this dream has become so important to me.

At 28, I probably would have looked at a piece of land and wondered what kind of house we could build on it. At 58, I look at it and wonder what kind of life we could build there. That’s a very different question.

The Funny Part Is…We Don’t Even Have a Homestead Yet

That’s what makes all of this slightly ridiculous. We haven’t bought the land. There is no barn. There are no chickens. There is no garden. The imaginary farmstand currently has   zero customers.

But I’m learning. I’m dreaming. I’m figuring out what we would want and, maybe more importantly, what we wouldn’t want. And for once, I don’t feel the need to rush the dream just because I’m excited about it.

Maybe we do it. Maybe the plan changes. Maybe our future looks completely different than the picture currently living in my head. But I’ve realized something while dreaming about this little homestead of ours. The farm isn’t really the dream. The life is.

A life where I slow down enough to notice things. A life where taking care of my health isn’t another item on a to-do list but part of the way we live. A life filled with good food, family traditions, meaningful work, faith, laughter, and people I love gathered around my table.

Maybe that’s why so many people are dreaming about homesteading right now. Maybe we’re not all trying to run away from modern life. Maybe we’re just trying to remember which parts of life were never supposed to be rushed in the first place. And if there happen to be a few chickens involved? Well…I’m certainly not opposed.

Until next time, here’s to dreaming big enough to imagine a different life and being wise enough to build it slowly.

With love,
Natalie💛