And yes, it still shocks me too. Okay, so let me be completely honest right off the bat: I never planned to be a blogger. I’m not one of those people who grew up journaling their thoughts in a Moleskine notebook or writing poetry about goats. I didn’t even know how to format a blog post properly when I started. But somewhere between chasing runaway chickens and learning how to ferment sauerkraut without gassing the whole house… I figured, hey, maybe I should start writing this stuff down.
So I did. And shocker of all shockers: people actually started reading it.
Then something even weirder happened.
It started making money. Real money. Like, “help pay for feed and firewood” money.
It All Started With Oversharing
In true “this might be a terrible idea” fashion, I wrote my first blog post while sitting on the porch, wearing mismatched socks, drinking lukewarm coffee, and crying about how my goats chewed through the garden hose again.
I clicked “publish,” thinking it would be buried in the internet graveyard next to my abandoned Pinterest boards and forgotten Gmail drafts.
But the next morning, someone commented:
“Same thing happened to my goats last week. I thought I was alone in this chaos.”
And suddenly I wasn’t.
Turns Out, People Love a Hot Mess With a Harvest
I kept posting. Some blogs were practical (“How to Keep Chickens From Destroying Your Soul and Your Flowerbeds”), and others were more personal (“Yes, I Cried Over a Broken Jar of Home-Canned Peaches”). And slowly, a small crowd of kind, curious, and slightly feral humans began to show up.
Not just to read, but to share. And that, dear reader, is when the magic of the internet began to pay the bills.
So… How Does This Blog Actually Make Money?
This is the part that confuses my grandma and makes my husband laugh. Because yes, it’s still the internet, and yes, it’s still kind of weird. But here’s how it breaks down:
1. Affiliate Links
You know when I post about my favorite heavy-duty garden gloves or the compost bin that doesn’t smell like death? If you click those links and end up buying something, I earn a small commission.
No, it’s not shady. No, it doesn’t cost you extra. It’s like a thank-you from the company for me saying “hey, this thing doesn’t suck.”
I only recommend what I genuinely use. So if I say a certain cast iron skillet is worth the hype, it’s because I’ve used it to fry bacon, bake cornbread, and defend my kitchen from a rogue raccoon.
2. Sponsored Posts
Every now and then, a brand will reach out and say, “Hey, want to try our heirloom seed packs and write about them?” If I like the product and it fits my homestead life, I’ll agree—and I get paid for that post.
If I don’t like the product, I say no. (Sorry, weird goat yoga mat company.)
3. Ad Revenue
You’ve probably noticed a few ads on the site—nothing aggressive, just the kind that shows up in the sidebar or between paragraphs like a polite pop-in guest. That’s handled by an ad network, and every time someone visits or clicks, I earn a few cents.
It adds up. Especially if one of my posts gets shared a lot. (Shout-out to that viral “How to DIY a Chicken Coop That Won’t Collapse in the Wind” post. You paid for our Thanksgiving turkey.)
4. Digital Products & Printables
This was a game-changer. I started selling printable planners, seed-starting charts, and even cute little labels for mason jars. People love a good download. Especially if it saves them from scribbling on the backs of feed store receipts (ask me how I know).
What the Money Actually Does
I’m not buying a yacht or moving to L.A.
The income from the blog goes right back into our life here:
- Feed for the animals
- Seeds and tools for the garden
- Paying the propane bill when it’s -2 degrees
- Fixing the well pump (ugh, again)
- Occasionally, a nice dinner in town when we feel extra fancy
And more importantly: it’s given me a way to contribute financially while staying present here. On the land. With muddy boots, sticky-fingered kids, and a to-do list that never really ends.
It’s Not Always Glamorous
There are days when writing is hard. Days when I feel like I have nothing interesting to say. Days when the internet goes down right as I’m uploading photos of sourdough fails.
And let’s not forget the trolls. Yes, even the homestead corner of the internet has them.
(“Your garden fence looks like a trash heap.” Cool. Thanks, Deborah. I hope your kale dies.)
But the Rewards Are Real
This blog has brought people into my life I never would’ve met otherwise—homesteaders from Maine to Montana, backyard chicken moms in the suburbs, off-grid dreamers and DIY fanatics.
It’s made me feel seen on days when this life feels hard and thankless.
It’s given me a space to process, to laugh at myself, and to remember why I chose this life in the first place.
And now it’s part of how we keep that life going.
If You’re Thinking About Starting a Blog…
Do it.
Don’t wait until everything is “perfect” or your website is Pinterest-pretty. Start with your voice, your mess, your stories. That’s what people care about.
You don’t have to be the expert. Just be real.
Talk about the failed goat milking attempts. Post photos of your chaotic kitchen. Share what’s working, what’s not, and what you’re learning.
You never know who’s out there waiting to say, “Same here.”
So yes, my farm blog makes money. But more than that? It makes meaning. It connects my messy little homestead life to thousands of others.
And that? That’s the kind of abundance no garden chart can measure.
