Welcome to the Homestead Corner
Old ways remembered. Hands at work. Heart wide open.
Hi, I’m Rebecca—raised in Indiana, with roots that stretch through Kentucky hollers, Virginia hills, North Carolina fields, and all the way up to the rocky shores of Maine. My family came from many places, but they all carried the same love for homemade things, hard work, and traditions that stick like biscuit dough on a wooden spoon.
The Homestead Corner is my little nook of peace and purpose. Here, I share the simple crafts, remedies, and handed-down know-how that connect us to those who came before. Whether it’s a handmade good, a story tucked in a corner, or just a recipe scribbled in the margins, I believe there’s beauty in the useful, and power in the passed down.
When the mood strikes and the coffee’s good, I love to hand-spin yarn, crochet, knit, and make all sorts of traditional crafts. Years back, I even made the front page of the Kokomo Tribune for spinning yarn at the local farmers market—me and my cousin set up shop right there among the corn and tomatoes. That old spinning wheel of mine has seen fair weather and stormy days, but it still hums when I sit down to work.
Pull up a chair, take a look around, and stay as long as you like.
🧵 Handmade & Heartfelt
From knitting needles to crochet hooks and quiet porch mornings with a spinning wheel—these are the pieces made slowly, with purpose, one loving stitch at a time.
Handmade with heart and homespun mischief—these two kept watch over childhood dreams and a whole lotta giggles.
Bright as a buttercup and stitched with love—this sweet dolly brings porch sittin’ charm wherever she goes.
Snug as a bug and sweet as pie—hand-stitched bundles of love, ready for a cuddle or a keepsake.
🥘 Home Cookin’ Moments
🔥 Hearth & Heart
Cozy corners, wool socks, rainy days by the fire—this is where stillness lives. Moments that wrap around you like a handmade quilt.
🐾 Critter Watch
A peek at the four-legged neighbors and winged visitors who come pokin’ around the garden. They’re part of the story too.
These tiny chambers held little white eggs just before eviction day. I gave 'em a wide berth and let the pros handle it. Nature doesn’t ask permission—she just moves in.
Wasn’t no garden gnome I found that day, nosiree. Just me, mindin’ my own, when I look down and there he was—lookin’ like he owned the whole flowerbed! Probably huntin’ eggs or frogs or maybe just enjoyin’ the sunshine. Either way, I let him know real quick this porch had a no-slitherin’ policy.
Don’t let those googly peepers fool ya—this little fella ain’t watchin’ you, he’s tryna scare you off! Meet the Eastern Eyed Click Beetle, a harmless bug with a flair for drama. Flip him over and he’ll give a mighty click and bounce right back on his feet like a seasoned rodeo champ. Around here, we call that grit.
Spotted holdin’ vigil on the gas pipe—this Praying Mantis wasn’t prayin’… they were plottin’. Known to feast on everything from flies to small frogs, this lanky garden guest is more ninja than nun. Around here, we keep an eye on her, not the other way around.
Don't let the glam fool ya—this White-Marked Tussock Moth caterpillar may look like it rolled outta a 1980s glam rock band, but he’s got a sting in his style. Best admired from a distance, unless you're fixin’ to itch!
She may be a little weather-worn, but this Eastern Tiger Swallowtail still struts her stripes like royalty. Seen flutterin’ ‘round the garden beds, sippin’ nectar and chasin’ sunshine — proof that even the slightly tattered can still be stunning.
🪶Barnyard Moments
Life around the homestead has its own rhythm—early crowin’, dusty sunbeams, and the soft shuffle of hooves or feathers passing by. These barnyard moments aren’t just about animals; they’re about connection, quiet joys, and the simple, steady company that makes the days feel full. Whether it’s hens on a rail, goats with opinions, or a rooster showing off, this little corner celebrates the heartbeats beyond our own.
Every seat’s taken, and not a one of ‘em's in a hurry. Chickens know how to do porch sittin’ right.
No names yet, but I’m thinkin’ Eeny, Meeny, and Munch. They sure came hungry—and stayed that way.
A flurry of fluff, peeps, and wobbly feet—just-hatched chicks bring the whole homestead to life. Hatched right here at home in our old foam incubator, this batch marked the start of a brand-new chapter in the coop.
The new arrivals drew a crowd. Mama hen and the rooster wasted no time checking out the crate—because around here, curiosity isn't just for cats.
This is what peace looks like—wings out, heads down, and a warm board beneath ‘em.
This muddy bunch had a whole lotta personality. We raised 'em right here at home, and if you’ve ever heard the story about Sally, well—you’d understand why she got her name first.
These were some of the little ones we hatched together. They followed me to the porch every morning like clockwork, peeping and pecking for a hello. Their home was the pen he built, and their time here—however short—still makes me smile.
Every morning like clockwork, he’d hop up on the birdbath and sound off—loud, proud, and not a care in the world. That little Buff at the bottom? She wasn’t impressed one bit.
When he wasn’t crowin’ from the birdbath, he was holdin’ court on the porch rail—watchin’ over his domain, feathers shinin’, voice carryin’ across the yard like a bugle.
Don’t let the fluffy feathers fool you—Wee Peep was trouble in a white tuxedo. What started as a sweet little poult turned into a full-blown backyard brawler. He strutted, he gobbled, and he ran the yard like he was sheriff. Lost both his lady friends to his bullheaded ways, and when that wasn’t enough, he set his sights on the feller—chargin’ at his boots like he had somethin’ to prove. Truth be told, he probably did… just don’t tell him he was only knee-high.
She stood as high as my knees and tipped the scales over 300 pounds—built like a tank and twice as stubborn. When she got outta that pen, nothin’ short of divine intervention (or a swift nudge to the rump) was gonna get her back in. You didn’t mess with Corn Fed... unless you were ready for a showdown in the mud!
Every morning like clockwork, this little crew would march out from under the pine tree and fan out across the grass, scratchin’, chattering, and keepin’ the peace (or tryin’ to). The guineas were loud, proud, and not afraid of anything, while the roosters strutted behind ‘em like they’d been elected mayor. We lost them to carelessness—and that still stings. They deserved better.
🌼 Simple Blessings
Little things noticed. Dew on the grass, a good cup of coffee, warm sun through the window. A place for soft gratitude and gentle joy.
—faith to guide you, family to hold you, friends to walk beside you… and every now and then, a four-leaf clover.
tucked in like they’re sharing secrets in the grass.
The feller brought this home to me, fresh from the edge of the garden—perfect, proud, and soft as a whisper. I misplaced it for a few days, and when I found it again, it had a few gaps… but don’t we all? It’s still just as special.
Sometimes the biggest blessings are the smallest things—like a blushing strawberry nestled in rich soil, waiting to be picked. These are the quiet moments that feed more than just the body.
Visit Rebecca’s Garden Journal 🌱 »
I looked up and there it was—arching right over the trees like a quiet little nudge from above. A reminder to be still, stay hopeful, and find beauty where you are.
Just a quiet day in the woods, hunting morels together. No rush, no fuss—just time well spent.
This little surprise showed up on the truck tire one spring afternoon. Guess the hen figured, “Why not lay it where it won’t roll off?
When the day winds down and the sky catches fire just before the hush… that’s when the world feels still enough to listen. The kind of light that makes you linger just a little longer on the porch steps.
Perched high above, this bald eagle paid a surprise visit—watchin’ the land with eyes sharp as the wind. Around here, we don’t take sightings like this lightly… it’s a sign of something sacred, strong, and worth remembering.
More to come… I’ve got a handful of projects still waiting in the wings—like those afghan blocks… This corner’s to share, not sell—but who knows what might grow?