From Suburbs to Self-Sufficiency: a lesson for each year of homesteading

After more than a decade immersed in the publishing world and the preparedness community, I’ve learned that one of the greatest joys is watching fellow homesteaders step boldly into self-sufficiency. There’s something deeply encouraging about hearing fresh voices and budding journeys. They remind us that no matter how long we’ve been at it, the path of resilience is one we walk together, one skill at a time.

That’s why I’m delighted to share this insightful post from Laura Vosika. Her transition from suburban academic life to raising chickens, rabbits, sheep, and growing her own food beautifully echoes the spirit of adaptation and grit we see in characters like Erika Moore. In The Changing Earth, Erika and her family face sudden societal collapse, supply shortages, and a changing planet—realities that make practical homesteading lessons like Laura’s not just inspiring, but essential. These stories blend survival fact with fiction to show why we prepare for the worst and pray for the best.

Here is Laura’s post in full (shared exactly as written, with permission):

From Suburbs to Self-Sufficiency: a lesson for each year of homesteading

In 2020, we couldn’t get toilet paper. With six of my kids in the house with me at the time, it was a constant battle to find enough. The jokes write themselves, but in truth, it’s not funny because it can happen again. It happened swiftly the first time, almost overnight. It was a lesson in how quickly society can turn upside down. Being a student of history, I understood how much politicians control our world and that next time it could as easily be food. I’m a firm believer in not waiting to be a victim. I’ve had several occasions in life where I had the choice of waiting helplessly for the axe to fall, hoping it wouldn’t, or take matters into my own hands and planning accordingly. I’ve always chosen the latter.

As a result, in 2021, my husband and I, both having lived very suburban and academic lives—I had never so much as grown a head of lettuce nor cared for any animal other than dogs and cats—bought acreage in northern Minnesota. Moving in in the fall, we had time to walk our land, choose a location for the garden and fence it in, but no time to plant, let alone buy animals, before the first snow fell. I unofficially retired from 32 years of teaching music lessons, and spent the winter learning. I studied planting, seeds and tubers, when and how to harvest, how to save seeds, companion planting, and composting. I studied chickens: breeds, temperaments, feed, care, cleaning of the coop, until it seemed it required a Ph.D. to keep chickens. I studied rabbits and goats. In December we planted indoors with a large AeroGarden; in March I planted seedlings for spring transplanting. In the summer we brought home our first four chickens and a few months later, our rabbits. I’ve learned plenty of lessons along the way.

Here’s a lesson for each year we’ve been homesteading:

1. Whether you think you can or can’t, you’re probably right. I’ve had a habit in life of plunging ahead without stopping to consider whether I can do a new thing. Had I thought about it too hard, it would have been almost reasonable, as someone who had spent well over thirty years in music and writing, to question my ability to learn a whole new way of life. I didn’t dwell on whether we could. We’d decided we had to, so we plunged ahead. I believe anyone can if they really want to. To decide you can and will learn is half the battle.

2. Take it in small bites. We’re now a bit more than four years into the learning process. We’ve learned a great deal about gardening, fruit trees, pollination, bees, all the things you can make from apples, how to process chickens and rabbits, how to water-glass eggs, and much more. In self-sufficiency, there will always be more to learn. We started with planting. When I saw I could grow a head of lettuce, we moved up to chickens. When I kept them alive for a few months, we added rabbits. After our move to the Appalachians, we added sheep. We’re always learning. I’ve had to learn how to give sheep injections—and find better ways to load them into trailers. I’m now making soap and candles, drying and preserving, and learning about medicinal herbs and knitting. Chris bought a tanning kit to learn to cure the rabbits’ hides; he bought a small forge after our class in smithing. We’ll continue to learn, a skill or two at a time.

3. Build community. Homesteaders run the risk of overextending themselves, of trying to be entirely self-sufficient. It may be possible for some. Many of us, however, continue with full-time jobs while building our new lives. That’s certainly our case. We joined a homesteaders’ group on facebook before we ever got to our new home. We take turns holding classes to teach each other the skills we know. Classes range from canning to gun safety, from knitting to processing animals. Building community is important for moral support, encouragement, and help when we need it. When my ewe Maisy got sheep ‘polio,’ it was vital to get her up off her side and up the hill to the sheep shed. I was unable to move a hundred and thirty- or forty-pound ewe up a steep hill. Thanks to our community, I had a friend down the hill who came immediately. Between us, we were able to get Maisy where I could care for her.

   

4. Roll with the punches. No matter how much you learn, no matter how many classes you take, things are just not always going to go according to plan. We planned on Easter eggers. We got Rhode Island Reds. We planned on goats. We ended up with sheep. On a day I planned to write, I found Maisy sick and spent much of the next week caring for her. I may plan to breed a doe only to find the doe doesn’t like the buck. On a day I plan to make more soap, I may find a young ram with his horn broken and spend hours isolating him and caring for his injury. I learned that rabbits don’t automatically cuddle and sheep don’t willingly jump on a milking stand to be milked. We’ve had failures, such as the greenhouse whose pieces didn’t fit together correctly  or seedlings that didn’t grow. It’s important to take things in stride, be patient, and be flexible.

   
   

Homesteading and self-sufficiency were never in my plans. But we live in a changing world where we can’t count on things working the way they always have. We’ve learned a great deal in recent years about the amount of harmful chemicals in our food. For these and more reasons, it’s wise for all of us to learn to be more self-sufficient than most of us currently are. If we never actually need it, it’s been a great adventure, and a great joy in working with rabbits and sheep. And it just feels good to know we can learn and adapt and don’t need to just wait and hope.

Laura Vosika

Www.lauravosika.com

Www.glenmirrilfarms.wordpress.com

Laura Vosika is a writer, poet, musician, podcast host, and mother of 10. Her time travel series, The Blue Bells Chronicles, which ranges across modern and medieval Scotland, has garnered praise for its historical accuracy and the vibrant personalities inhabiting its pages, along with comparisons to writers as diverse as Diana Gabaldon and Dostoevsky. She is currently working on her memoirs about moving from the suburbs to greater self-sufficiency: High on Spirit Mountain and Up Above the Hollers, in addition to the IV Leake Mystery series.

She lives at Glenmirril Farms in the Appalachians with her husband, their Bernese mountain dog, Boo Bear, and their menagerie of sheep, New Zealand White rabbits, and chickens.

Laura’s story is a wonderful reminder that it’s never too late to start building resilience—whether you’re just beginning or, like many of us in the Changing Earth community, have been honing these skills for years. If her words resonate with you, be sure to visit lauravosika.com and glenmirrilfarms.wordpress.com to follow her journey.

At authorsarafhathaway.com, we continue exploring real homesteading practices alongside the fictional survival challenges in The Changing Earth series. From global disasters and supply chain breakdowns to the strength found in family, faith, and community, these stories are meant to equip and inspire.

What’s one small step you’re taking toward greater self-sufficiency this season? Share in the comment. I’d love to hear how you’re preparing for the worst and praying for the best.