A Harvest Worth Celebrating

There’s something special about standing on the deck at the end of a harvest and looking at the baskets overflowing with food. Not because it’s perfect. Not because every seed germinated or every plant produced exactly what we hoped for. But because every item in those baskets represents a little faith, a little patience, and a whole lot of work.

This harvest brought us a beautiful mix of goodies from around the homestead. Fresh cucumbers, colorful peppers, tomatoes, potatoes, eggs from the ladies of Shady Pines Retirement Home, and even a gorgeous tromboncino squash that looks more like garden art than food. Every basket tells a story of a season spent tending, watering, weeding, and trusting God to do what only He can do.

One thing homesteading has taught me is that abundance doesn’t always look like rows and rows of perfectly uniform vegetables. Sometimes abundance is a handful of cherry tomatoes. Sometimes it’s a basket of eggs after a week of inconsistent laying. Sometimes it’s digging up potatoes and feeling like you’ve uncovered buried treasure.

Looking at this harvest, I’m reminded why we started 1737 Urban Homestead in the first place. It was never just about growing food. It was about learning where our food comes from. It was about becoming a little more self-sufficient. It was about creating a space where we could share what we’re learning with others and encourage people to grow something—anything—right where they are.

The potatoes in this harvest are a perfect example. They spent months hidden beneath the soil where no one could see them growing. Day after day, there appeared to be nothing happening. Yet beneath the surface, something amazing was taking place.

Isn’t life like that sometimes?

We put in the work. We keep showing up. We keep watering our dreams, our goals, our families, and our faith. And for a while, it feels like nothing is happening. Then one day, we look back and realize there was growth happening all along.

The peppers will find their way into meals. The tomatoes will become something delicious. The eggs will make breakfast. The squash will eventually end up on someone’s plate. But for a moment, before any of that happens, I’m just thankful.

Thankful for the harvest.
Thankful for the lessons.
Thankful for the opportunity to grow food in the middle of the city.
And thankful for every person following along on this journey with us.

Whether you’re harvesting baskets full of vegetables or celebrating small victories in your own life, don’t forget to pause and appreciate how far you’ve come.

Sometimes the harvest isn’t just what’s in the basket.

Sometimes the harvest is who you’ve become while growing it.

— Shawana & Jordan
1737 Urban Homestead
Cultivating Community. Harvesting Home. 🌱🥚🍅🥒🫑