Two years ago, I thought I was starting a gardening blog.
Turns out, I was mostly planting ideas.
Life had other plans.
Since my last post, I’ve changed jobs twice, become intimately familiar with the court system (zero stars, would not recommend), welcomed my fifteen-year-old son into our home full-time, and discovered that adulthood is mostly just Googling things while reheating your coffee for the third time.
It was… a season.
Not the kind where you’re deciding whether to plant tomatoes or peppers.
The kind where you’re just hoping everyone (including yourself)makes it through the week.
And yet, every time life got loud…
I ended up outside.
Not because I had some grand homesteading plan.
Because that’s where I could finally hear myself think.
Some people meditate.
Apparently, I weed.
The Garden Didn’t Ask Me to Perform
One thing I’ve been realizing lately is that the garden doesn’t care who I am Monday through Friday.
It doesn’t care about corporate job titles.
It doesn’t care about meetings.
It doesn’t care if my planner is color-coded or if my inbox is overflowing.
The basil has never once asked for my quarterly goals.
It simply asks,
“Hey… are we watering today?”
Honestly?
That’s refreshing.
Somewhere along the way I realized LitFoxFarm has quietly become the one place where I don’t feel like I have to perform.
No masking.
No pretending I have everything figured out.
No picture-perfect homestead where every carrot grows straight and every sourdough loaf belongs on Pinterest.
Just dirt under my nails.
Fresh herbs on the kitchen counter.
Bread cooling on a rack.
Pesto made from basil I grew myself.
Tiny moments that somehow feel much bigger than they should.
So… What Even Is LitFoxFarm?
At the moment?
It’s wonderfully unimpressive.
I have a horseshoe-shaped in-ground garden out front.
Two 2×8 raised beds with an archway.
One Garden Tower.
Two first-year apple trees.
A little crescent garden filled with lavender, catnip, and an unreasonable number of garden gnomes.
A pair of wild raspberry briars that have decided this is their property now.
A mushroom shelf that’s currently teaching me humility.
Some herbs.
A few vegetables.
One patch of borage.
And approximately 937 ideas.
Somewhere in there is the beginning of a tiny farm.
The Dream
I can already see it.
A patch of cut flowers swaying in the breeze.
Honey bees buzzing between blooms.
Garlic hanging to cure.
Fresh bouquets waiting on a little roadside stand.
Homemade beeswax candles.
Goat milk soap.
Plant starts.
Eggs.
Herbs.
Maybe a pumpkin patch.
Maybe ducks.
Probably chickens.
Definitely goats who believe they’re middle management.
I don’t know exactly what LitFoxFarm becomes.
But I know how I want it to feel.
Warm.
Real.
A little wild around the edges.
Like the kind of place where someone stops for honey and accidentally stays for twenty minutes talking about tomatoes.
Here’s the Honest Part
Will this become another abandoned blog?
Honestly…
Maybe.
I’d love to tell you I’ve suddenly become the kind of person who publishes every Tuesday at precisely 8:00 a.m. while sipping herbal tea and radiating organizational excellence.
But that’s probably not how this story goes.
Consistency and I are still negotiating our contract.
What is different this time is that I’m not trying to become someone else.
I’m following something that keeps pulling me back.
Joy.
And it turns out joy looks suspiciously like dirt under my fingernails, vegetables on my kitchen counter, homemade bread, and learning the difference between a honey bee and a bumble bee because apparently that matters now.
Who knew?
What You Can Expect Around Here
This isn’t going to be a blog where I pretend to have all the answers.
I’m learning as I go.
Some things will thrive.
Some things will flop spectacularly.
You’ll see both.
We’ll talk about gardening.
Flowers.
Herbs.
Bread.
Pesto.
Mushrooms (assuming they decide to participate eventually).
Building a tiny farm.
Building a tiny business.
And figuring out whether it’s actually possible to create a beautiful little life one season at a time.
If everything goes according to plan, LitFoxFarm might become a small business that helps support our family while letting me spend more time doing work that feels meaningful.
If everything goes completely sideways…
I’ll still have fresh tomatoes, homemade pesto, and hopefully enough flowers to brighten the kitchen table.
Honestly, that’s not a terrible backup plan.
Currently Growing
🌱 In the garden: Jalapeños, herbs, borage, first-year apple trees, wild raspberries, vegetables that are doing their best.
🌻 On the wishlist: Cut flowers, garlic, honey bees, pumpkins, a proper flower patch.
🍞 In the kitchen: Homemade bread, butter, pesto, and whatever the garden decides we’re eating this week.
🦊 In my head: Roughly 937 ideas… and one tiny farm that feels a little more possible than it did yesterday.
Thanks for stopping by.
Take off your shoes if you’d like.
Just watch out for the garden gnomes—they’re unionized.
LitFox Farm 