If you picked up a quarantine hobby or seven this year, you’re not alone (whether you stuck with them or not is another story). But what about homesteading? Homesteading, at its core, is about creating a practice that is self-sustaining; it’s the kind of “we are one with the Earth” vibes you get from folks who keep gardens they eat out of and have chickens they get eggs from. And while homesteading might drum up visions of a full-out farm in the middle of nowhere, you don’t have to be out in the country to try your hand at it. And in 2020, many people did just that.

“Homesteading has been a lot like nesting recently,” says Yasmine Cheyenne, a self-healing expert . “We’re going through a repatriation phase in our own homes. We don’t have places to spend our money that we usually would. What’s better than investing in an emotional connection to your home to leave you feeling more grounded, feeling safer?”

“What’s better than investing in an emotional connection to your home to leave you feeling more grounded, feeling safer.”

Homesteading also mimics nesting in its psychological pros: It feels good to look after something or to take care of something, especially when that something can double as a way to ground yourself in your own home.

“Emotionally it can be really tough to be inside everyday, stuck inside the same four walls,” she says. “That’s why [homesteading activities] like keeping a garden or a sourdough starter—even plant propagation—gives us a really great way to engage with ourselves.”

Here, four newbie homesteaders share how they have brought some new self-sustaining activities into their lives since quarantine hit.

Danika Brysha: Gardening

Danika Brysha has lived in New York City, Southern California, and for 10 months, she, her partner, and her dog lived in an RV, driving cross country for work.

“I have lived in some really small spaces,” says Brysha, a wellness entrepreneur and the co-founder of Model Meals and Self-Care Society. “I felt like I really needed spaciousness in my environment and my soul and my calendar.”

Brysha and her partner moved to Las Vegas, Nevada, aptly timed at the beginning of quarantine. It was a house—a real house—with half an acre yard.

“This is the first time I have ever felt like I had yard space,” she says. “I’m a model as well, so I normally travel 50 percent of the time. It’s been more than a decade since I’ve been in the same space for more than a few weeks at a time.”

With the start of a new space, Brysha moved slowly to make every decision feel intentional. But the start of homesteading came with the house; there were already fruit trees planted outside. She leaned in.

“The healing nature of nature and dirt and getting outside is so grounding. It is therapeutic, meditative, to get your hands in nature. When you eat a salad made with greens you grew yourself—that has been so nourishing.”

“There has been a lot of trial and error—a lot,” she says. But now they have a ton of goods growing: a Meyer lemon tree, a mandarin tree, a ruby red grapefruit tree, a nectarine tree, a fuji apple tree, swiss chard, arugula, cabbage, kale, spinach, garlic, and potatoes.

“The healing [properties] of nature and dirt and getting outside is so grounding,” she says. “It is therapeutic, meditative, to get your hands in nature. When you eat a salad made with greens you grew yourself—that has been so nourishing.”

But you don’t need to have outdoor space to learn a little from this method of homesteading. “Being from Brooklyn, I never would’ve imagined my friends would have gardens in their 1,200 square-foot apartments,” Cheyenne says. “I’ve seen people keep plants on their windowsills, their fire escapes. Just a way to care and look after something.”

No matter what you’re growing—or where—you can learn from it.

“This time and the space outside has given me the ability to really think about stillness and ability to be still and just give, instead of get,” she says. “Life works best when we are there for unconditional love. That’s what plants and animals do: just be and love. I really think we have so much to learn from nature.”

Dave Sands: Custom-built gym

Moving into a new space can be a great jumpstart to new hobbies. But you certainly don’t need to. Quarantine has forced a lot of people who didn’t spend all of their time at home to see their space as less transient, more functional.

Dave Sands, co-founder of Grady’s Cold Brew, has been living in the same Williamsburg apartment for 11 years. He’s had a private roof for that long too, but it served as TV-watching, sunset-viewing, drink-having space for most of his time there. Because for 10 of the past 11 years, that’s what he needed it for.

For Dave, the reality of COVID hit a little faster for him. He had a good friend in Milan providing him with vivid firsthand accounts of what was happening there—and what was sure to happen here.

“I felt like I was living a month in the future from the rest of the U.S.,” says Sands. “My friend had told us not to panic about grocery stores—we probably weren’t going to run out of food—but that one disruptive part of his life was that all the gyms were shut down, he didn’t have any equipment at home, and it was getting harder and harder to find stuff to buy.”

In February, Sands invested in what he could get early: a bunch of light and medium dumbbells (the heavy ones were already sold out); a small barbell set (the kind you fill with sand); and a ton of bands.

February passed. And then March. Sands realized, “OK, well if I’m going to be here for the foreseeable future, I am going to build the best home gym I can. I have ample time for exercising.”

He missed deadlifts, heavy squats, and cable machines. So, he built them himself.

He used two cinderblocks to create an elevated platform for deep squats and extended-range pushups. He built a heavy bag for boxing workouts out of two emptied protein tubs, which he filled with sand for heft and old pillow guts for softness. He drilled a hole through the bottoms of the tubs, ran a rope through them, and attached it between a block of wood and a heavy kettlebell.

“People are seeking stability and comfort from their home because it’s working overtime right now,” says Lili Pettit, founder of Clutter Healing, Inc . “Our homes are now the gym, the school, the workplace, the meditation center, and so on. We are more aware of how much stuff we have and how functional or non-functional our space is.”

And Sands went in on prioritizing functionality. He bought cheap goods from Home Depot and Amazon. He used rope and carabiners to string light weights together to make something heavy. He fashioned an old velcro tool belt into a makeshift lifting belt he could load with those strung together weights. Better yet? He built his own system of cable machines for, well, anything you’d use a cable machine for.

“A lot of people have never thought about the actual mechanics of any cable system at a gym,” says Sands. “Almost any machine at the gym is just a rope and pulley system with a weight attached to it. That’s it. A pulley costs $3.”

Since February, Dave’s roof gym has gone from a fitness Band Aid to a full-on studio. Quarantine or not, the roof gym is staying.

Joanna Arcieri: Knitting

Joanna Arcieri has been a knitter for a minute. She first learned at age 11, from her mom, but started knitting regularly in the past three years. And she’s been doubling down on making it part of a slow start to her mornings during quarantine. Instead of scrolling through social media, she’ll try to take 30 minutes to knit and figure out what she wants to do with the day.

During quarantine, she’s started knitting sweaters, which takes up both ample amounts of time and creates something functional at the end.

“Sweaters forced me to learn new stitches, different cast-ons, and techniques (bless YouTube),” says Arcieri. “It has been a fun challenge but sweaters also require patience. Sleeve island is hell. I’ve also made tons of hats, cowls, stuffed animals, and shawls throughout the year. I end up giving most projects to friends and family.”

“It’s in our human nature to be in touch with our creativity whether that is in the form of art, gardening, or cooking. I see the homesteading practices as a natural reset, or our way of coming back to our roots.”

“It feels like we are all more and more aware of the damage that social media can cause and it’s in our human nature to be in touch with our creativity whether that is in the form of art, gardening or cooking,” says Pettit. “I see the homesteading practices as a natural reset, or our way of coming back to our roots.”

Pettit has a point: What Joanna is getting out of knitting isn’t just about the items she makes in the end. It has also been a space for her to stay connected with friends and become part of a community (add this to your feed: #KnittersofInstagram).

“I started knitting regularly around when my friend Amanda started her yarn company, Hu Made ,” Arcieri says. “Through Amanda, I’ve learned so much about the yarn industry and fiber community. Not only the science behind dyeing yarn and choosing colorways but also what goes into running a small business, especially during a pandemic, and the systemic issues within the industry at large.”

Arcieri points to the history of racism within the yarn industry , a reality that is not lost on her or how she chooses to engage.

“Knitting is [also] just an expensive hobby,” she says. “How can race, class, and accessibility within the fiber community not exist? But I didn’t have expendable income until recently, which means I didn’t always have the luxury of being the conscientious consumer I am now.”

Knitting is also a space she’s redefining her values when it comes to what she invests her money in.

“Since yarn and knitting supplies are really the only thing I’m spending money on besides groceries, I can spend more and be mindful about who I’m supporting and why,” she says. “I also make a point to support local yarn stores ( Knitty City in NYC — my favorite; Espace Tricot in Montreal — gotta get that exchange rate!) and support BIPOC owned businesses and dyers like Lady Dye Yarns , Neighborhood Fiber Co , and Lola Bean .”

Ryan Flammia: Sourdough starter

At the beginning of quarantine, I went home for three months with two of my brothers, who are also full-grown adults. We mostly sat near each other not talking. None of us has ever been a hobbyist, let alone a homesteader. But my younger brother, Ryan Flammia decided in his post-college graduation glory that this was his time to shine. He would make sourdough bread and he would make it from scratch.

“I have no idea why I decided to do this,” he says. “I don’t even like cooking but I like baking bread. I like the tradition of sourdough, it being the oldest form of baked bread (thousands of years old). It connects me to historic and distant culture. It’s a great way to disconnect from the media-driven world. The only technology I have to use is an oven.”

He learned by watching baking and reading up on techniques—his favorite, Patrick Ryan .

Flammia is a big proponent of anything self-sustaining and non-invasive. Zero climactic footprint is his love language. Not only does keeping a sourdough starter —and baking the bread that comes out of it—satisfy his quest for low-impact, but it also has given him a place to zone out of the difficulty of the world and into something productive.

“I could keep myself busy with a wholesome hobby…I guess it’s a mild form of escapism by simply unplugging.”

“I never did this before quarantine,” Flammia says. “It really helped in the beginning, when we were seeing videos of police brutality, hearing about COVID being mishandled. I could keep myself busy with a wholesome hobby that I didn’t not need the internet or television for. Most of my other hobbies are all internet-driven (gaming, coding, watching tv and films, browsing Reddit). I guess it’s a mild form of escapism by simply unplugging.”

He’s made sourdough breads, big round boules, baguettes, ciabatta, and naan. The bake requires planning: “I start three to four days before baking by reviving my refrigerated sourdough starter, which involves taking it out of the fridge and letting it warm to room temperature,” he says. He then begins the bake with starter, tepid water, flour, and salt to form a dough and knead it until the gluten is strong. He proofs it twice, usually opting for the second overnight in the fridge.

The fact that this homesteading hobby is time-consuming and heavy on the learning curve is part of what he loves about it.

“I love the internet and memes, but even satire can be upsetting when the whole world seems to be falling apart,” he says. “But now I love to be home even more. Before the pandemic, I would have traveled to an artisanal bakery to buy sourdough but instead I am making it myself.”

“I can keep myself busy—and fed—the same way a person did 100 years during the 1918 pandemic or even during the plague.”