Homesteading often gets framed in extremes.
There’s the dreamy, Instagram-filtered version: you, barefoot in a sun-dappled backyard, collecting eggs in a flowy dress and gathering flowers with a child on your hip. Then there’s the gritty version: trudging through mud at dawn, wrangling goats in the rain, elbow-deep in compost, doing all the messy tasks most people outsource.
The truth? Homesteading usually lands somewhere in between. And that middle space: the real, sometimes chaotic, sometimes beautiful life, is where the magic happens.
In this article I’m going to pull aside the curtain and explore what homesteading really looks like, some of the challenge, and whether it’s worth it.
Contents
What is Modern Homesteading?
Let’s pause here and define what I mean by “homesteading.” I use a broad definition. Modern homesteading is about growing your own food, prioritizing self-sufficiency, and embracing a lifestyle grounded in hands-on skills—gardening, raising animals, cooking from scratch, preserving, and more.
And no, you don’t need a big piece of land. Homesteads can flourish in rural pastures, suburban backyards, and even urban rooftops. What matters most is intention, not location.

What My Homestead Looks Like
Right now, I homestead on about five acres. We raise goats, chickens, one determined duck, and tend a large garden. Over the years, we’ve added and removed animals, homeschooled, baked bread, preserved food, and I’ve even sewn my own clothes.
Recently, I added a cut flower garden, which I sell from a little roadside stand. While much of what I do supports my family, I also enjoy experimenting: reading, researching, and testing out new ideas in the garden. Even after years of homesteading, I’m still learning.
A typical day? It changes with the seasons. But it always starts and ends with animal care. During the growing season, I spend about an hour and a half each day on homestead tasks: more on weekends, less during the week. Some chores are joyful, like planting or harvesting. Others? Not so much—like cleaning out the coop or trimming goat hooves.
The Work Behind the Dream
Let’s be real—homesteading takes work.
There will be days when it’s cold, wet, and miserable, and you still have to get outside and care for animals. There are nights when you get home late and instead of going to bed, you’re out in the dark watering the garden.
And yes—burnout is real.
Sometimes it lasts a few days. Sometimes a season. Sometimes longer. There have been years when I scaled up too fast and had to take a long step back. The biggest mistake I see? People go all-in too quickly. Then life happens, and they’re overwhelmed and exhausted.

My Best Advice: Build Systems
What saved my sanity wasn’t working harder. It was building systems.
I think of the homestead as an ecosystem. I rotate chickens and goats through overgrown areas to clear weeds before planting a new bed. They fertilize the soil, I save time, and they get fresh forage. Win-win-win.
Small, thoughtful systems like this reduce your workload and build in sustainability—so you’re not constantly starting from scratch.
The Money Question
Let’s talk about the finances.
While homesteading can cut costs in the long run, it isn’t free. There are upfront expenses, ongoing care costs, and unexpected repairs. Most homesteaders need some income from outside the homestead, unless they turn it into a full-fledged farm.
Which brings its own challenge: responsibility.
What happens if you’re at work and the goats escape? Or a dog gets into the chicken coop? Or your bees swarm? (Yes, all of these have happened to us.)
Working away from the homestead means finding solutions for when you’re not there—which isn’t always easy, especially if you work far from home.
Homesteading When Money is Tight
It’s entirely possible to homestead frugally. Start small. Use what you have. Learn basic skills before investing in gear. And consider small-scale side hustles: like selling eggs, soap, baked goods, or flowers: to support your efforts.
Every little bit helps. And those efforts add up.
Yes, You Can Travel (Eventually)
Another challenge? Leaving the homestead.
For years, we didn’t take vacations. We barely left for a weekend. Animals and gardens need constant care. Over time, we built a community we could trust to help when we’re away. Now we can step away—sometimes even for a week—but it took years to get there.
It’s doable. But you need a plan. And good people.

You’re Going to Fail
Even after 15 years, I still have setbacks.
Just this morning, a groundhog wiped out my cool season crops—lettuce, broccoli, Brussels sprouts, the works. Last week I lost a persimmon tree I’d been nurturing for five years.
It hurts. But you can’t let failure stop you. You’ll waste seeds, lose animals, mess up timing. Homesteading requires resilience. You don’t get to control everything. You do get to keep going anyway.
Why Homestead, Despite It All?
So why do it?
Why take on something so unpredictable, exhausting, and endlessly demanding?
Because it’s real.
Because even when I’m knee-deep in mud wondering what I’ve done with my life, I still believe this life is worth it. Homesteading teaches resilience and grit. It connects you to the land, to your food, and to your limits—and shows you how to grow beyond them.
It gives your kids a front-row seat to life, death, problem-solving, and persistence. It teaches patience, responsibility, and wonder. And there’s a quiet confidence that comes from knowing you can do hard things.
You don’t need to do it perfectly. You don’t need to do it all. You just need to start. Find joy in small wins. Build a life with your own hands. Learn to trust the rhythm of seasons.
It’s messy. It’s imperfect. And it’s absolutely worth it.

Why Homesteading Matters for the World
Homesteading isn’t just personal: it’s powerful.
In a world of industrial food systems and throwaway culture, growing a tomato in your backyard is a radical act. Every egg you collect is one not laid in a factory. Every time you compost, reuse, repair, or trade with a neighbor, you’re creating a better alternative.
Homesteading builds local resilience. It restores soil, supports pollinators, and strengthens communities. It invites biodiversity and encourages thoughtful consumption. It won’t fix every global issue—but a million small, intentional choices can start to shift the tide.
Your homestead, no matter the size, matters. Your backyard, your windowsill garden, your compost pile, your chickens.
They matter more than you know.