A Building Is Not a House Yet: Life on Hogs Hollow Homestead
There’s a moment in every homestead journey when you realize that having a building doesn’t mean you’re living in a house. Walls and a roof don’t make a home — the life you build inside them does. And for us on Hogs Hollow Homestead, that life began long before the house was finished.
We had the land. We had the barn. But the house inside it was still only an idea taking shape. So while waiting for the house to be built in the barn, we lived in the camper. It was a year‑long version of camping in the wild — except the wild was our own land, and the campsite never closed.
Living Simple While Building Big
Life in the camper was simple, sometimes too simple, but it grounded us in ways we didn’t expect. We built a deck onto the camper to create a small shower and toilet area. The toilet used the composting method. The shower was basic, but it felt like pure luxury after long days of work.
And the water — once hauled up from the creek in buckets — now flowed from a tap thanks to the well. That alone felt like a milestone worth celebrating.
There was something almost magical about standing in that warm shower, steam rising into the cool air, and looking out over the dark forest. Primitive, yes. But peaceful in a way that stays with you.
Campfires were made from the huge pile of logs we cleared, glowing reminders of the work behind us and the work still ahead.
Through all of this, we discovered how enormous the “small” pleasures of life really are — the ones we usually take for granted until they’re gone.
A New Generation in the Hollow
Somewhere in the middle of this rugged, half-finished life, our grandson was born. And on weekends, he grew up right alongside the homestead.
He loved the heat, the quiet, and the freedom of the land. He slept wherever he landed — sometimes on a chair on the porch — perfectly content in the simplicity of it all. Watching him explore the place as it was becoming something new reminded us that a home doesn’t need to be finished to be full of life.
A House in Progress, a Home Already Here
We may not have been living in the building yet, but we were already living in the home. The home was in the work, the land, the laughter, the firelight, the cold mornings, the hot showers, and the memories being made in real time.
A building is not a house — not yet.
But a homestead?
That’s something you grow into, one imperfect, beautiful day at a time.
