JW Homestead

  • Before the Meal, There Was a Life

    This morning I find myself back home in Ohio after a work-sponsored trip to Croatia. My body is still trying to figure out what time zone it belongs in, so the jet lag had me awake a little earlier than normal.

    The trip home was a little more eventful than planned. After travel delays caused by the power outage at the Pittsburgh airport, we finally made it back later than expected, tired and ready to be home.

    But the funny thing about a homestead is that the world here doesn’t pause while you recover. So this morning, before the coffee had fully kicked in and while my body was still convinced it was somewhere across the Atlantic, the chores still needed done. The animals still needed fed, water still needed checked, and life here kept moving just like it always does.

    And honestly, there is something grounding about that. Walking outside, seeing the animals, and stepping right back into the responsibilities we chose gave me time to think about the conversations I had over the past week.
    Croatia was an incredible experience, but one of my favorite parts was getting to spend time with people from different places, backgrounds, and walks of life.

    As conversations tend to do, eventually they drifted back home. Back to our little homestead in Ohio. The chickens, the turkeys, and especially our pigs, Coconut and Reese. Right before we left for our trip, Coconut and Reese completed their journey from our pasture to our freezer. That became one of the conversations that followed us all the way across the ocean.

    “You named them?”
    “You raised them yourselves?”
    “You cared for them every day and still processed them?”

    They were honest questions, and I truly appreciated them. Truthfully, I love when people ask, because those questions create conversations worth having. And yes, we named them. We knew their personalities. We laughed at their antics. We fed them, cared for them, and watched them grow.

    My wife has always been especially passionate about this part of the journey. If an animal is going to provide for our family one day, then we believe it deserves a life filled with care and respect first.
    It deserves room to explore, sunshine on its back, fresh bedding, good food, and the chance to simply be what it was created to be.

    Around here, that even means letting pigs be pigs. And if you know pigs, you know sometimes they have their own opinions about what “clean” means. And before we left for Croatia, we sat down as a family and had bacon from animals we raised ourselves. It was incredible! Not just because of the taste, but because we knew the story behind it.

    That breakfast represented pver 18 months of care. Sunshine, rain, mud, snow, feed buckets, fence checks, and a commitment we made from the first day they came home.

    One thing I heard more than once was, “I could never eat an animal I raised.” And honestly, I understand why. There is a weight that comes with knowing the life behind your food. A weight that comes from feeding an animal every morning, caring for them when they need you, watching them grow, and knowing that one day they will help provide for your family. But maybe that weight is something worth carrying.

    I think many of us simply grew up generations removed from the story behind our food. It’s not something most of us had to think about. We go to the store, buy what we need, and provide for our families the best way we know how. And there is nothing wrong with that. But this journey has changed the way we see things.

    Every meal has a story.

    Before the package, there was a process. Before the meal, there was a life. Before it reached our table, someone somewhere carried that responsibility. For our family, raising our own animals has not made us care less about them.
    It has made us appreciate them more. We see the work involved. The early mornings, the late nights, the muddy boots, the frozen water buckets, and the little moments along the way.

    We know the animals in our care because we were there for the journey. We feed them. We protect them. We give them sunshine, fresh air, and the best life we know how to provide. And when the time comes, we accept the difficult part of that responsibility too.

    There is sadness in that moment, but there is also gratitude. Gratitude for the animal, gratitude for the lessons learned, and gratitude for the ability to provide food we know and trust.

    This life is not for everyone, and that is okay. We all have different stories, different circumstances, and different ways of providing for our families. For us, this journey has brought us closer to the food on our table and given us a deeper appreciation for the life, the work, and the responsibility behind it.

    Because farmers remember. Homesteaders remember. Not because we are better. Not because everyone has to choose the same path. Simply because we chose to be closer to the story. And while this path is not always easy, it is one we are thankful for every day.

    Because for our family, it is intentional.Hats off to the farmers, ranchers, and homesteaders who continue carrying on the tradition of raising food with care and gratitude.

  • 22 Months Later: From Pasture to Freezer, The Journey Comes Full Circle

    The originally planed 18 month which became 22 month journey from pasture to freezer was not easy, but it is intentional.

    When we brought Coconut and Reese home almost two years ago, we knew what the end goal was. That doesn’t mean you don’t get attached or that the final step is easy. Raising your own food creates a connection most people never experience anymore. You see every part of the journey.

    These pigs turned sunshine, rain, grass, leftovers, milk, and a little feed into food for our family. They spent their days outside rooting around, exploring, and doing what pigs naturally do.

    One of the things Nicole and I have always cared about is giving our animals the best life we can while they are here. They have clean spaces, fresh bedding, pasture, and room to just be animals. Sure, sometimes pigs are going to be pigs and choose the muddiest spot they can find, but that should be their choice, not the only option they have.

    After 22 months, the freezers are full.

    Looking at those packages stacked inside hits differently than grabbing something from the grocery store. Each one represents morning chores, late evenings, hauling feed, carrying water, fixing fences, herding them back to their paddock and all the little moments that happened along the way.

    There is something deeply satisfying about knowing exactly where your food came from and the care that went into every step.

    Tonight’s supper will taste a little better, not because it came with a special label or fancy packaging, but because we raised it ourselves.

    Thank you Coconut and Reese. ❤️