Our 2017 growing season in a nutshell... (Hint, it wasn't pretty)

Deciding to write a blog can be a funny thing. Though the main catalyst for doing so can be for a myriad of well-intentioned reasons, anyone who tells you that in some small part they are not doing it for the accolades (or to further their own sense of self-worth) is lying; either to you, or themselves.

I mentioned this because I firmly believe that once we make the decision to share our lives or stories publicly we, like other media sources, are helping to control the narrative of the particular story we are trying to tell. While this can be harmless for sharing photos of cats for example, when our blogs seek to educate or help families in their decision to take up a certain lifestyle, it take be disheartening at best or even costly at worst when all the facts - good and bad - are not presented in a transparent fashion.

Take Urban Homesteading, for example. Some of my favourite blogs to follow show a happy family: kids with dirty faces helping their parents tend slightly-weedy, if not perfectly-imperfect raised beds, while their plump, healthy chickens run around in the backyard sharing the same space as well behaved dogs; who show not the slightestinclination that at any moment they will try to tear apart and eat said chickens. Family crafts and activities are a weekly occurrence; recorded with thoughtful words and photos that belong in a gallery. The meals showcased are prepared from scratch and would make any Michelin Star Chef proud – often with well-planned recipes and directions to boot.

To the families that not only provide such beautiful content but who also take the time to share it in such a meaningful way, the praise is most assuredly earned. Such a lifestyle is not easy, and the decision to now share that life with the Internet is also never made lightly. However, I fear that all too often what is started with the best intentions can often lead their readers to feelings of frustration and inadequacy when their own experiences do not match up with what they have been seeing through the lens of a computer screen.

To that end, I want to do our part. We’ve highlighted our own struggles before, but most of the time it was due to circumstances beyond our control and did not accurately show that like any other aspects of life, Urban Homesteading can often run in to issues of our own making.

This growing season was not our best. As with any other year, we started with enthusiasm and the best of intentions. Beds weeded and tilled, seeds planted just after the May 24 weekend. We even spent the first few weekends on top of any new weed growth, ensuring the rows remained clean and the bugs at bay. But then… we didn’t. 

We have many excuses we could use as to why we’ve been especially lazy gardeners this year (more so than normal, at least!). Both of us working full-time, often mentally-draining and stressful jobs. Children’s extra-curricular sports and activities. Extra time spent away from the house visiting family and friends. But in reality, we – I – didn’t try to make the time. And our gardens have suffered as the result.

This has left me feeling frustrated, and very angry at myself. From the sheer force of nature to thrive despite the odds, we will still get a decent crop of corn, pumpkins, and tomatoes. But our onions and peppers became overgrown and did not bear fruit (the onions remained stunted). The majority of our beets (though some grew to a good size) were mostly smaller than desire from not being thinned down enough. Many of the beans and peas simply did not germinate. And in their pots, the zucchini never grew past flowering.

This is our reality. 

This is not even a failure. Failure to me implies that despite all best efforts we were still unable to succeed. This year, we just didn’t try.  Yet my husband's And to admit this to others, to show the world that we fell short of our own expectations is painful. But you know what? Sometimes that will happen. We have the unequalled luxury that our very livelihood did not depend on this garden, but the 9-5 jobs we have as well. We started Urban Homesteading because we wanted to teach our children where food comes from and to start, however small, and become as self-sufficient as possible. This year was no different.

But those ambitions did not prevent our growing season from being, in our opinion, a disaster. I kept meaning to take a couple hours after work to tend and then document the results, or a weekend afternoon here or there. But for whatever reason, for us this year it was not the priority. And I am not at all happy with the result.

At the end of the day please remember: whatever the task or lifestyle you set for yourself, and whomever you use as an inspiration or role model to get you there, there will be times when you believe you’ve fallen short. This will happen, and may even happen often. It’s not necessarily a good thing, but it’s not a bad thing, either. And it certainly does not mean you cannot start again. Raise the bar, lower the bar, do what you need to do to learn from your experience.

This is life. This is messy. This is Urban Homesteading.