The House That Almost Changed Everything (And Why I'm Glad It Didn't)
I was 8 months pregnant when we nearly bought a 1950s homestead. Here's why losing that house taught me everything about starting where you are.
Eight months pregnant, standing in a pantry with floor-to-ceiling shelving built for rows of canned goods, I thought I'd found it. The answer to everything.
The 1950s tri-level sat on an acre right in the city of Fort Collins. Established garden beds sprawled across the property. The zoning allowed for business—we could sell sourdough from a stand at the end of our driveway, maybe start our own little farm stand. The sellers would even leave the chickens.
This was it. The perfect setup for our homesteading dreams.
The Perfect Trap
My husband and I walked through that house three different times. Each visit, I mentally placed fermentation jars on those pantry shelves. I imagined our children running around in the expansive yard, our daughter on the way taking first steps between garden rows.
Here's what I told myself: Once we have this house, then I'll really start. Then I'll master sourdough. Then I'll ferment vegetables. Then I'll preserve the harvest. Then, then, then.
The house had everything Instagram homesteaders said you needed. Space. Land. The right zones. Established infrastructure. Even chickens, for crying out loud.
We made an offer.
We didn't get the house.
I was bummed. Eight months pregnant, hormonal, dreams dashed.
The Liberation in Limitation
Since then, from my regular house with its incredibly small kitchen (I’m talking like less than 200 sq feet small), I’ve:
Kept my sourdough alive and well, making weekly loafs and trying new recipes
Fermented dozens of jars of sauerkraut and pickles
Started my own small but abundant garden beds
Sourced amazing produce from local farms (who do the growing much better than I would)
Fed my family traditional, nourishing foods every single day
Turns out, I didn't need perfect conditions. I needed to stop waiting for them. The constraints I have forced action. And action, not acreage, is where tradition lives.
The Myth of "Someday When"
We've been sold this lie that traditional skills require traditional settings. That you need acreage, chickens, a big farmhouse kitchen, heck maybe throw in a root cellar.
Our ancestors fermented vegetables in whatever containers they had, kept sourdough alive in covered wagons and preserved food because they had to, not because she had the perfect setup.
The "someday when" trap:
Someday when I have more space
Someday when I have the right equipment
Someday when I have land
Someday when I have time
Start Where You Are
My sauerkraut doesn't know I don't have a pantry with custom shelving. The wild yeast in my sourdough starter doesn't care that I don't have an acre. The vegetables from my local farm are probably better than what I would have grown myself while juggling a newborn.
Here's what you actually need to start reclaiming traditional food skills:
For fermentation: A jar. Salt. Vegetables. Counter space the size of a dinner plate.
For sourdough: Flour. Water. A bowl. A warm spot (top of the fridge works).
For preserving: Jars. Salt or vinegar. Whatever's in season at the store.
For connection to your food: Curiosity. Willingness to try. Permission to fail.
That's it. That's the list.
Your Revival Starts Now
Still waiting for your perfect setup? Stop. Go to your kitchen right now. Find a jar. Buy some cabbage on your next grocery run. Google "simple sauerkraut recipe" (or better yet, join our community and we'll walk you through it).
Start where you are with what you have.
Because here's the secret: The perfect conditions aren't a place or a pantry or a particular house. The perfect conditions are simply deciding to begin.
Your ancestors didn't wait for perfect. They just started. And a year from now, you'll be grateful you did too.
Join us as we hone one traditional skill each month, no matter where you live or what your kitchen looks like.
