Welcome to Poser Homestead

If I were a pioneer, I'd be dead.

Once Upon a Time… I decided to live off the land. 

It was the 2008. The economy was awful. Money was tight.

“I’ll live off the land!” I said.

Turns out, it’s not as easy as it looks.  I fought urban squirrels, killed seedlings, and watched three cheap greenhouses blow away in New England storms. 

It wasn’t any easier when I moved to a place with some land. I just killed more veggies, wasted more time and money, and ended up knee-deep in chicken waste.

One day, I went outside, and I found my dinner somewhere in the weeds. I cooked it up. It was delicious.

I decided to improve—there was something to this “poser homesteading” thing…

Homesteading is hard. But, it doesn’t have to be…

I learned the secret. Instead of trying to get off the grid and eat off my land—I needed a Poser homestead instead. Poser homesteads are for anyone who’s interested getting off the grid, but doesn’t have the time, mobility, land—or desire to get off the land.

Whether you want to look eco-cool on Instagram, eat local, grow some herbs, or commit to sourcing the best food and learning some DIY skills our grandparents knew, poser homesteading is for you.

Relax, learn one thing at a time, and have fun. 

That’s what I do on the Poser Homestead. It changed everything…

I realized: I was not going to overcome global economic crisis, global warming, or anything else by growing tomatoes and collecting my own eggs. But, I was going to get some darned good food and live a simpler lifestyle I’d come to love.

Real homesteading kicked the crap out of me but “poser” homesteading is amazing.

Before I knew it, I was eating off my land many days, preserving food for off season, and brewing beer. My food is delicious. It’s healthier, doesn’t come in five boxes and a clamshell, and there’s never any MSG. It’s like takeout, but better…

I’m not a garden-loving grandma, but the more I practice each skill, the more I see results. 

I started the Poser Homestead in the middle of the 2008 economic crisis. I was broke and afraid. I kept it going because I uncovered a treasure box full of skills and secrets—the things my grandma knew, the things pioneers knew.

Things worth preserving.

I wanted to learn more. Soon, I learned to fix, build, and do… one thing at a time. I gave myself permission to have fun. I shifted from fear to curiosity to hard-core interest. That gave me a stress-free environment to learn.

“It’s no big deal, there’s a store down the street.”

Until… one day there wasn’t.

Enter… global pandemic.

Most of us will never forget the day our quarantine began. For me, it was the day I saw a line wrapped around the store. People were buying water and toilet paper. Then, they panicked over food. Many shelves were empty.

That’s the day I appreciated every skill I’d learned to date—all the lessons from my grandma, my farmer, every real gardener I knew, the artisan baker who let me follow her around and said, “No one loves to talk about bread like me,” the master canner who insisted I reach out to her at any time, and checked in on me to make sure I was canning safely.

Sadly, these are dying arts.

They don’t have to be.

Today, more people than ever are interested in learning the skills our grandparents knew. There are a million reasons why you should. And, it doesn’t take that much time.

You don’t have to be a farmer, “Swamp Yankee,” tree hugger, or wood hick to learn this stuff either.

I know people in all walks of life getting back to the land—from students to millionaires. From people with New York City apartments to people in suburbs and countrysides with land.

Whether you want full-on self reliance, chef food, a little more insight as to where your food’s coming from, or you want to leave less of a footprint on the earth, you can learn one skill or do one “poser” thing.

It’s all part of the poser homestead movement. You don’t need a farm. Any one thing you learn is one more skill you have.

I hope you’ll join me. No stress… just me, learning one thing at a time, ruining less each year. 

As I do, I’ll share that with you.