Many years ago, in my early married years, a man I greatly respected gave the following counsel:
“We encourage you to grow all the food that you feasibly can on your own property. Berry bushes, grapevines, fruit trees—plant them if your climate is right for their growth. Grow vegetables and eat them from your own yard. Even those residing in apartments or condominiums can generally grow a little food in pots and planters. Study the best methods of providing your own foods. Make your garden neat and attractive, as well as productive.  If there are children in your home, involve them in the process with assigned responsibilities.”

His name was Spencer W. Kimball, and he was the President of the church I belong to.  Latter-day Saints regarded him as a prophet, and I loved him as one. I took his counsel to heart.  At the time, we lived in a two bedroom apartment in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada.  I noted that he mentioned “those residing in apartments“, so I knew my living situation did not exempt me from his instructions.

My husband and I set out to figure out how to comply.  We were young.  I was only 18 years old.  He was 22.  We planted a small garden in a space provided by my parents-in-law in their acreage vegetable garden.  We travelled out weekly to take care of it.  We were terrible farmers, and my father-in-law had to bite his tongue many times to keep from dashing our spirit.  My mother-in-law praised our efforts and was very encouraging.  When I look back on it now, I roll my eyes at how young and naïve and – let’s be honest – ‘stupid’ we were.   In addition to the weekend garden, Dan built me a window box that we hung from our kitchen window.  I had visions of Snow White watering her blooms from the window.  I know, I know.  I was such a dreamer, and we were so young.  And Dan’s always done his best to build me what I envision.  . . .  Let’s just say it didn’t exactly work that way, …. and that’s all I have to say about that for now.

Over the years, I continued to be motivated by this same talk (given in April 1976) by President Kimball.  There are ways to do life better, and what he said resonated with me.  “We call upon Latter-day Saints everywhere to strengthen and beautify the home with renewed effort in these specific areas:  food production, preservation, storage; the production and storage of nonfood items; fix up and cleanup of homes and surroundings.”  The die was cast, so to speak.  We made the decision to follow these and other tenets he taught. 

They became life-shaping for us. “Children should learn to work.” he said.  “Develop your skills in home preservation and storage. . . .  acquire and maintain a year’s supply of the basic commodities.  . . . Wherever possible, produce your nonfood necessities of life.  Improve your skills ....” he said.  “Keep your lawns and your gardens well-groomed.  Whatever your circumstance, let your premises reflect orderliness, beauty, and happiness. . . . Plan well and carry out your plan in an orderly and systematic manner.  . . . Avoid debt.” he said.  I took it all very personally, and took the stance that he was speaking directly to me.

We knew our lives would be blessed by living these principles of self-reliance, and we endeavoured to align ourselves with them as much as we could.

We were drawn to rural life and dreamed of living in the country one day. But circumstances led us in another direction, and the closest we came to that dream was our first home in the small town of Calmar, Alberta.

It was an old house. Very old. Which, thankfully, made it affordable.

That old house became the setting for many good memories and many new beginnings. It was there that our family grew, and where I began learning that a homesteading lifestyle didn’t necessarily require a farm.

One day, I came across an article in a Harrowsmith Magazine—my little connection to a world I wanted to be part of—that changed the way I looked at our circumstances.

The author suggested that one didn’t have to wait until you owned a farm, lived in the country, or had all your ducks lined up to begin living a homesteading life.

You could begin RIGHT. WHERE YOU WERE!

Who knew?  I was empowered.  And I determined to do just that.

Until we could move to the country, we would make the most of what we already had.  We would grow what we could, preserve what we produced, learn skills that mattered.  That old house in Calmar was the beginning of our homesteading journey. 

. . .  So we planted a garden, just as President Kimball invited us to. Every year. No matter where we lived.

While we lived in Calmar, we bought our fresh milk and eggs from a local farm. Twice a week, I would walk out to the farm with an empty gallon jar and walk home again with a much heavier one!

We made our own yogurt, cottage cheese, butter and ice cream.  We bought honey from the local beekeeper just outside of town. We bought wheat from another farmer and ground our own flour. I baked our bread.

I learned how to make soap— then made our own. 

Looking back, I realize that we were doing something that felt quite natural to us: we were learning to be self reliant.  We weren’t trying to recreate a pioneer -life, nor did we imagine that we could—or should—try to live as they had.  We simply wanted to retain some of the skills, attitudes, and self-reliance that had served those who came before us so well.

Not everyone in our circle of friends and family saw things quite the way we did however.  I will admit, we raised plenty of eyebrows. Even our grandmothers sometimes shook their heads, wondering how we had regressed so far in our thinking! 😂

They had lived through a time when they made soap, churned butter and made everything from scratch, as necessity.  They had no desire to go back to it.

And honestly, I can’t blame them. They had worked hard to make life easier, and they appreciated that it was. They simply couldn’t understand why we would want to do some of those things all over again.

And that is where our perspectives differed.

What they saw as going backward, I saw as remembering something valuable. There were things from the past I didn’t want to lose—skills, knowledge, traditions, and the satisfaction of knowing how to provide for ourselves.

I wasn’t trying to recreate the past. I was trying to carry the best of it forward.

We have learned so much, and we have come so far.  Life has taken us places we could never have imagined when we were first starting out. We raised five children, moved a few times, owned a few houses, and eventually bought a business that I managed for twenty years. We have experienced our share of both heartache and joy.

But the basic, foundational principles we embraced all those years ago are still important to us. The desire to be self-reliant. To work hard. To use what we have been blessed with wisely. To grow and preserve what we are able. To learn useful skills. To be prepared. To help others. 

 Not simply learning how to DO things, but learning how we wanted to live.

We never did get out of the city again.  In fact, at this point I can safely say we’re here to stay. We live in a modest home with a slightly-larger-than-average yard. 

In every place we lived, we have tried to live by the principles of self-reliance—looking at what we had and making the most of whatever advantages we could find in our circumstances.

This home, perhaps more than any of the others, offered us opportunity. It gave us room to grow—not just a garden, but as a family. 

All our kids finished growing up here. This was the place they learned, struggled, celebrated, and figured out who they were becoming. It was their springboard into adulthood.  And each one of them came back briefly as adults while they regrouped.  

And now, they’ve all gone on to build lives of their own.  That is its own kind of harvest.  

And we’re still learning.  That’s the beautiful thing about self-reliance. It isn’t something you finish when you reach a certain age or finally get your ducks lined up. It grows and changes with you. Every season of life brings different circumstances, different opportunities, and different things to learn.

The garden may look a little different now.   The house is quieter.  The fridge stays full longer.  But we’re – 

Still growing things.
Still learning things.
Still preserving what we can.
Still trying to make the most of what we’ve been given.
Still becoming. 

And still homesteading—right here in the city.

I’d love to share our Homesteading-in-the-City journey with you.

Some of it will come through recollection—looking back at where we began and things we’ve learned along the way. Some of it will come through our daily life as we’re still figuring things out.

The word homesteading may conjure up images of Little House on the Prairie, but homesteads actually come in all shapes and sizes. They can be rural, suburban, or, yes, even urban.

It isn’t necessarily about where you live.  It’s about what you choose to do with what you have.  And the yield can be tremendous.

Yes, there may be good, wholesome food on the table. But there can also be something less tangible: awareness and connection, confidence and independence, peace, purpose, and a deeper appreciation for the abundance around us.

Welcome to our home. Our kitchen. Our pantry. Our family room. Our yard and garden. We hope that through our journey together, you’ll be encouraged along your own path of self-sufficiency and homesteading – wherever you are.

Warmly,

Cindy Suelzle