Content Warning: Some parts of this survival diary post contains graphic descriptions related to my past struggles and personal experiences. Please read with caution if you feel these topics may be triggering or uncomfortable.
This weekend has been a whirlwind of homesteading tasks, and I felt it was the perfect time to write another survival diary.
Between tapping trees, cleaning up the property, hauling wood, and tackling food preservation, it’s been a non-stop stretch of work.
Every task seems essential, and while exhausting, it’s fulfilling in its own way.
From the quiet satisfaction of collecting sap to the physical labor of hauling wood and preserving what I’ve grown, each job ties back to what I’ve built here.
The work never ends, but it’s all part of this way of life I’ve chosen.
This weekend is just one example of the ongoing rhythm of homesteading—there’s always something to do, something to preserve, something to plan for.
It’s a lifestyle that demands both physical and emotional energy, but it's one that brings a deep sense of accomplishment at the end of each long day.
Backyard Sugaring Season: A Homesteader’s Journey
You know, I didn’t always know about my Grandpa’s maple syrup-making days.
It wasn’t until I read about it in a magazine that I even thought about giving it a try myself.
The thought of tapping trees, watching the sap flow, and turning it into something as sweet as syrup felt like something I needed to do.
When I mentioned it to Grandpa, he gave me a handful of his taps and offered all the advice he could, which meant the world to me.
And as I stand out there now, tapping the trees, I can feel his spirit with me.
I often wish I had known sooner, though.
Growing up, I didn't get the chance to spend as much time with him as I’d wanted.
And honestly, I don’t think my grandma would’ve let me help—she thought that was “men’s work.”
It’s funny how life works out, though.
Even now, in those quiet moments when I’m out there, checking the taps, it feels like he’s right there beside me.
There's a deep connection to him, to the land, and to something so much bigger than just making syrup.
But the weather?
That’s something I can’t control.
Some years are better than others, and I can’t always tap as many trees as I’d like.
I’ve learned to roll with it, even though I’ll admit, disappointment does creep in.
I just keep moving forward.
Cleaning Up the Homestead: A Necessary Routine
I won’t sugarcoat it—cleaning up the homestead isn’t easy.
It feels like it’s always been an uphill battle.
Some days, I get angry.
I get frustrated, and the disappointment creeps in when I can’t keep up with the weeds, fallen trees, and the endless piles of wood.
It’s physically demanding, and if I’m being honest, it hurts—sometimes more than I’d like to admit.
There are moments when I’m completely wiped out, and my body just can’t take it all.
I cry, not out of weakness but out of sheer exhaustion.
There’s a weight on me, and it feels like I’m constantly fighting just to stay on top of things.
But you know what?
I keep going.
There’s no other choice.
The mess doesn’t clean itself up, and if I let it pile up, it just gets worse.
The overwhelming feeling doesn’t go away, but I’ve learned to push through it, one task at a time.
There are days when I wonder if I’ll ever see the end of it—when the yard will ever look clear again, when the barn will stop feeling cluttered, and when I’ll finally catch up.
The work is never-ending, but giving up isn’t an option.
One thing that keeps me going is when a neighbor offers a helping hand.
Whether it’s lending tools, picking up sticks, or simply giving me a boost when I feel like I’m drowning, it’s more than just a favor—it feels like community.
It’s a reminder that we’re all in this together, that there’s still support and kindness when I feel like I’m alone in this battle.
And though I may not have the time or energy to return the favor right away, it fills me with hope.
In a world where so much feels uncertain, that sense of belonging makes all the difference.
Building a Safe Place for the Chickens: Creating Stability
Creating a safe space for my chickens has become a huge part of what I do around here.
It’s more than just protecting them from predators—it’s about creating stability for this homestead, and that’s something I can’t afford to overlook.
The chicken run?
It's an ongoing project.
The weather always seems to be in the way, but I push through because I know how important it is.
When I think about their safety, it’s not just the physical protection that matters.
It’s their overall well-being.
I want them to feel secure, not just from the hawks or foxes, but from everything.
It’s my job to give them that, and in doing so, I feel like I’m creating stability not just for them, but for my whole homestead.
Cutting, Splitting, and Hauling Wood: A Never-Ending Task
There’s something about cutting wood that’s both a blessing and a burden on the homestead.
It’s an ongoing battle, year after year, just to make sure I have enough to last through the winter.
I swear, some days it feels like the woodpile is growing faster than I can keep up with it.
When you’re out there in the cold, chopping and splitting logs, it’s easy to start feeling frustrated.
I get tired—physically, emotionally, mentally—and some days I wonder if I’ll ever get ahead of it.
The weight of the wood, the ache in my back, the calluses on my hands, it all adds up.
But here’s the thing about wood on a homestead: it doesn’t wait for you.
The fire keeps needing fuel, the temperatures keep dropping, and I keep pushing.
Most of the wood on our property is wet and needs to dry out, which makes hauling it all even harder.
But sometimes, we get lucky and find dry pieces.
This past week, Jeffrey was cutting and splitting wood using my small log splitter, but then his chainsaw died.
And just like that, I found myself buying wood by the truckload.
At $55 a week, it adds up quick.
It feels like I’m working just to pay for firewood sometimes, but honestly, compared to what my electric bill used to be, it’s a little easier on the wallet.
The heavy lifting isn’t just physical—it’s financial too.
For over a decade, I’ve been buying wood, loading it, hauling it, and stacking it.
And every year it feels like it’s getting harder.
The last few years?
They’ve been tough.
The stress of finding enough money, juggling bills, and hoping the firewood I bought lasts the season—it’s been exhausting.
I can’t help but think about how this fire is more than just a source of warmth.
It’s a symbol of my self-sufficiency.
It’s a reminder that, no matter how hard things get, I’m still fighting to stay in control of what I can.
When I look at that wood stove flickering, I feel a little peace.
In the midst of all the chaos, that wood burner is my anchor.
It represents more than just heat—it’s my connection to the land, to everything I’ve worked so hard to build.
Even if it’s difficult, even if it feels impossible, I know I’m doing the work that matters.
It’s a struggle, but it’s mine.
And I’ll keep fighting, one log at a time.
Food Preservation During the Off-Season: A Connection to the Land
There’s always so much to do on the homestead, and this past week was no exception.
I spent time canning beef bone broth, something that takes time, patience, and a bit of effort—but it’s so rewarding.
You can always buy bones at the store, but if you raise your own animals, saving the bones when they’re butchered becomes part of the process.
Bone broth is not just delicious; it’s packed with nutrients and so good for you.
Plus, making your own is a great way to save money, especially when you know how expensive store-bought versions can get.
Along with the bone broth, I found time to make tamarind paste, which will eventually become part of my homemade Worcestershire sauce, and I preserved lemons, which will come in handy for all sorts of dishes later.
I also made a batch of Thai Sweet & Sour Sauce, got a new batch of Ginger Bug going, and even made 2 pounds of whole wheat pasta that I transformed into dumplings and fettuccine.
Oh, and I baked a cherry pie using cherries from our tree that I had canned earlier, all while starting a fresh batch of bacon.
It’s a lot of work, no doubt, but the satisfaction of knowing I’ve made all these things myself is comforting.
There’s peace in it—knowing that I’m creating something wholesome for my family.
More than that, I’m saving money and stepping away from the overly processed grocery store options.
Food preservation isn’t just about filling jars for me.
It’s about caring for my family and making sure we’re ready for whatever the off-season might bring.
It’s a small victory every time I can preserve something for later.
When I think about what I’m preserving, it’s more than just food.
It’s a connection to the land, to the animals I raise, and to the survival skills I’ve worked so hard to develop.
And that’s what makes it worth it.
It’s not just about surviving—it’s about thriving, even if it’s a struggle sometimes.
A Legacy of Resilience: How the Past Shapes My Homesteading Journey
When I look back on my childhood, it’s hard to shake the memories of hunger and scarcity that marked those years.
I learned what it was like to go without—to feel the gnawing emptiness in my stomach when there was nothing to eat.
Growing up, I wasn’t surrounded by the comfort of a full pantry or meals on the table every day.
It wasn’t the norm for me to have food when I needed it.
If there was food, it was often the bare minimum.
The memories of long summers with no breakfast and only the occasional handful of strawberries for lunch still sting.
It wasn’t just the absence of food—it was the lack of stability, the lack of security.
And that, I think, is where my dedication to homesteading comes from.
Back then, my grandpa was the one who knew how to preserve food, canning things like vegetables and fruits, but I wasn’t raised with those skills at my fingertips.
My mother turned to store-bought, pre-packaged food.
There was no understanding of the land’s potential, of how to grow and preserve food for yourself.
Food came from a store, stamped with a USDA label, and was often out of reach.
And when the food was there, it was a struggle to get enough.
I learned the hard way what it felt like to eat last, scraping together leftovers after everyone else had their fill, sometimes even eating things I didn’t want or was forced to eat in ways that no child should be.
I was forced to eat things I didn’t like, and when I threw up, I was held down and made to eat my own throw up off the carpet.
There were even times when I had to eat hamster food just to fill my stomach.
There were times when there wasn’t enough food to go around, and I learned what it meant to do without.
I learned what it meant to be resourceful, to make do with what I had.
It was moments like these, the hunger, the isolation, and the humiliation, that planted the seeds for how I live now.
They taught me the importance of food security and why I’ll never take a meal for granted.
They also taught me the value of giving, which is why Plant-A-Row For The Hungry is so important to me.
I make sure every year, without fail, to donate food I grow to local food pantries.
I know what it’s like to be on the other side, and I want to make sure no one feels that kind of hunger.
This sense of scarcity, though it was painful, led me to create something different for myself, my family, and my animals.
Today, when I can bone broth, preserve my harvest, or prepare for winter, it’s more than just a means of survival.
It’s a way of healing.
It’s about providing for my family—not just with food but with the security and stability I never had growing up.
It’s about control, but also about creating the peace I longed for as a child, knowing I’m the one who gets to decide what’s in my pantry, what’s in my freezer, and what’s on my table.
And my animals—well, they’ve become more than just a means of survival.
I have a deep respect for the life I’m responsible for.
I can honestly say I’m at peace with the circle of life and what that means for the animals I raise.
There’s a beauty in knowing that I’m providing them with a life they wouldn’t have had otherwise.
It goes beyond just survival skills—it’s a relationship built on trust, care, and understanding of the land and animals I tend to.
That connection brings me healing, too.
Looking at all of this—the food preservation, the growing, the giving—it’s clear to me that homesteading is more than just a way to survive.
It’s a way to heal.
It’s a way to create something better, to provide what I never had.
And it’s in every act, every jar of canned food, every meal I make, every piece of land I nurture.
Homesteading is where I’m finding the peace and control I’ve always needed.
Taking Care of Me: A Balance I’m Still Trying to Find
The physical work of homesteading takes a toll on me—my body aches, and I don’t always give myself the care I need.
I don’t take time to rest, always moving from one task to the next.
I suspect that’s part of why I’ve been getting sick lately and dealing with health issues.
But I don’t know how to stop.
I don’t know how to slow down.
Maybe it’s time to find a balance, even if it’s just a little one.
To take a moment for reflection.
To give myself credit for what I’ve accomplished.
To remember that I’m doing this not just for my family, but for me too.
This is more than just about homesteading—it’s about resilience, connection, and a deep-rooted desire to build a life that feels stable, self-sufficient, and real.
It’s about remembering the past while building for the future.
And through every challenge, I keep moving forward.
Because this homesteading journey is mine—and no matter how hard it gets, I know it’s worth it.
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