Every time I post a photo of my raised beds or my perfectly labeled pantry jars, someone messages me saying, “Omg Nichole, this is my dream life. Where do you get your ideas??” And I laugh—because the truth is, while I do love a good cottagecore aesthetic, most of my inspiration comes from a chaotic mix of trial and error, old books that smell like barns, and one very vocal Facebook group called something like “Chickens and Chaos: For Unhinged Homesteaders.”
So let’s talk about it. Here’s where I actually get my homestead inspo—what works, what totally doesn’t, and how you can start building your own little (or not-so-little) patch of earthy, semi-organized heaven.
1. The Internet (Duh, But Also Please Use Caution)
Let’s be real. Instagram, TikTok, Pinterest, YouTube—these platforms are full of picture-perfect homesteads where everyone seems to own a flower crown and their goats have names like Moonbeam and Compostella. You scroll through videos of sourdough starters in hand-painted bowls, rain gently tapping tin roofs, and a woman casually harvesting 50 pounds of tomatoes in a white linen dress that somehow stays spotless.
I love them. I save them. I also yell at them.
Because what those clips don’t show is the chicken that escaped during that same harvest and launched itself onto the porch, knocking over said bowl of sourdough starter and pooping in it. Ask me how I know.
But here’s the good part: these platforms really can spark ideas. I’ve learned how to build a pallet compost bin in 20 seconds flat thanks to TikTok. I’ve totally ripped off someone’s DIY greenhouse design from YouTube (credit to “Alaskan_Moms_Grow_Zones”), and Pinterest has shown me at least 43 different ways to organize seeds—none of which I’ve followed, but I feel more organized just looking at them.
2. Books Older Than My Tractor
There is something magical about old homesteading books. The kind that say things like “Churn butter briskly for a half-hour while reciting Psalms” or offer charts for how many pounds of beets a family of 10 will need for winter. (Answer: more than you think.)
I inherited a stack of these from my grandma, and while I’m not churning butter with a song in my heart, I do love flipping through them on slow mornings. They remind me that homesteading has always been a little weird, deeply practical, and full of strong opinions about potatoes.
There’s real wisdom in those pages—like how to rotate crops before it was trendy, how to store carrots in sand, and why you should always have more jars than you think you’ll need in August (seriously—always).
3. My Neighbours (Yes, Even the One With the Haunted-Looking Scarecrow)
Living on a homestead means you pick up inspiration from the people around you—whether you ask for it or not. I once had a neighbour show up unannounced, holding a jar of fermented garlic honey and a very intense energy. “You need to start doing this,” she said. And honestly? She was right.
My neighbour three farms over swears by planting according to moon cycles. Another one composts with black soldier flies (don’t Google it while eating). And the retired couple down the road somehow grows the best onions I’ve ever tasted and refuses to share their secret.
But watching what works in real life, in real dirt, on real land? That’s where the magic happens. Even the scarecrow guy. His cabbage game is unmatched.
4. My Animals (The Accidental Architects of Chaos)
A lot of “inspiration” on this farm actually starts with my animals forcing me to problem-solve in weird ways.
Like the time the goats figured out how to unlatch the garden gate and threw a vegetable party for themselves. After I stopped crying and started filming (because, content), I got inspired to install a new locking system, build a garden fence 8 inches taller, and plant goat-deterring herbs like lavender and rosemary along the edge. Now people think I’m some kind of permaculture genius when really, I was just trying to outsmart Janet the Goat.
Same goes for the chickens, who once laid eggs in the hayloft for an entire week before I found the stash. That led me to create a whole chicken tracking system with color-coded nest boxes. Not because I’m hyper-organized, but because I was tired of playing “Where’s the Egg?” every morning like it was some sort of deranged farmyard scavenger hunt.
5. Chaos. Pure, Unfiltered Chaos.
Honestly? A lot of homestead inspiration comes from moments of desperation. A broken fence. A power outage. A surprise frost in May. These moments make you invent. They make you creative. They also make you talk to yourself in full sentences, sometimes with a British accent, just to stay sane.
Like when my rainwater catchment system failed mid-storm and I had to reroute it using an old kiddie pool, three bungee cords, and a plastic colander. Did I cry a little? Sure. But did I also end up with a janky-yet-functional water storage system that went viral on my Stories? You bet.
Sometimes the mess is the muse.
6. What I Actually Want From My Life
This one’s big. Because it’s easy to get lost in what other people are doing. Should I have ducks? What about a milk cow? Maybe I should grow artichokes and make those photogenic spiral garden beds from TikTok?
But when I really sit down and ask myself, “What kind of homestead feels good to me?”—that’s where the truest inspiration comes from.
For me, it’s about balance. It’s about waking up and hearing the rooster, picking herbs for dinner, watching the light change over the fields. It’s not about doing everything. It’s about doing what fills me up, keeps the animals happy, and keeps the chaos at a level I can manage without a therapist on speed dial.
Final Thoughts: Inspiration is everywhere (Even in Your Compost Bin)
If you’re just starting out and looking for homestead inspiration, here’s what I want you to know: You don’t need to have 10 acres or a greenhouse or a perfect sourdough starter. You need curiosity, a sense of humour, and a deep love for solving problems with whatever tools (and zip ties) you have.
Start with one tomato plant. Learn how to store onions. Build something weird out of scrap wood. Follow people online who inspire you but don’t make you feel bad about not living in a Pinterest board. And give yourself permission to fail loudly and laugh about it later.
Your homestead is yours. Let it be messy. Let it be joyful. Let it be weird. That’s where the best inspiration comes from anyway.
