Hot Mess Homestead: Reality of Homestead dreams and failures.
I had a great weekend, despite the wind raging all weekend, and we got a ton of stuff done. The garlic harvest is finally dried, peeled, and in the freezer, waiting to be freeze-dried. The frost covers are on the strawberry bed and the one surviving tomato plant that is finally starting to flower after months of scorching heat. I planned to start this week on a positive note, but life had other plans.
My alarm went off on this beautifully rainy morning—something that is few and far between here in Arizona. I took a refreshing hot shower and moisturized my skin with my personal blend of olive and sunflower oil to try and reverse some of this Arizona summer dryness. Then I sat down in my chair with what was supposed to be my morning cup of coffee, only to spill half of it into my lap on the third sip. It burnt my stomach. I sloshed the cup down on the side table, frantically tore my shirt and undershirt off right there in the living room, and rushed to the bathroom, dripping coffee all over the floor, just to jump back into the shower and run cold water over my very tender, red skin. Goodbye, oil blend. No permanent harm was done, but it was a close call. After a few hours of reflecting on how my Monday started, I’m really hoping this isn’t an indicator of how the rest of the week is going to go.
2026 has had some beautiful moments. We’ve traveled more than ever (hello California, Nevada, and the Texas Coast), but we also failed at the entire homesteading thing. The garden failed—I’ve already blogged about that. I nuked the plants I had started in the greenhouse because Arizona plays hot and cold with our temperatures. The plant sale didn’t happen because I didn’t get the shade cloth on the greenhouse, and we had 100-degree temps for a full week in March. Our only homestead gains were some sweet potatoes and a pathetically small garlic harvest. I’ve given up on social media twice this year, and I even debated giving up Gardner Keep & Apiary for good. It’s been a year full of adventure, wonder, and massive failure. So here I sit in the middle of October, wondering what it’s all for.
As I reflect on the news from the weekend, read a few posts from perfect homestead accounts, and watch people in prepping groups debate whether a freeze-dryer is worth the cost, I remember what it’s all about. It’s about not being at the mercy of just-in-time shipping, the lack of fresh produce in stores, the uptick in chronic disease, more manufactured foods with potentially fewer nutrients, and the ever-increasing number of food recalls due to safety concerns. Reflecting on this, I remember my “why.” My why is because we live with this illusion of health, food security, and safety. I don’t “homestead” because it’s a trend. I do it because we are always just one moment away from being sick, or from not having enough food in the stores for the number of people living in our community. We are one bad storm away from not being able to travel to the grocery store, or from supply shipments reaching us. We are one heatwave away from a massive blackout or worse. I’ve read One Second After, and I highly recommend it if you haven’t.
This chapter isn’t here to terrify you or turn you into a crazy, end-of-the-world prepper. It’s simply to show you that life isn’t perfect. We take so much for granted, and it’s time to start thinking about security in our homes, not just the illusion of security in this fragile consumer economy. We aren’t here for the Instagram-perfect homestead or to go viral. We are here for the days when you spill hot coffee in your lap at 5:30 AM, your garden fails, and you want to give up.
Because I did give up. Not on life—I never recommend that—but I gave up on the aesthetic, the likes, the views, and the algorithms. I’m going to continue posting, but it’ll be for those who are real, who understand what is at risk, who are just starting to notice how fragile all of this is, and who want to know they aren’t alone in the chaos of real living. Not simple living, not off-grid living, not the perfect homestead story. Just the dead pumpkin plants, empty canning jars, and questioning every adult decision kind of living.
Oh, and did I tell you that my morning oatmeal, filled with pumpkin seed protein powder, tasted bad? Yeah, I just realized the oats I was given had gone bad. I didn’t check the expiration date; I just mixed everything right into my bowl, and now it’s all getting trashed. Well, I’ll cook it up and feed it to the chickens so at least they get a fun, new treat. I doubt they’ll care that it tastes old and a little off.
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