Welcome back to the Gubba Podcast. I'm Gubba, a first time homesteader following in the footsteps of my homesteading forebears. I discuss everything from homesteading to prepping and everything in between.
So grab a warm mug of broth or herbal tea, settle into something cozy, and maybe look outside — at the land around you, the trees, the light, the quiet messages nature is always whispering. Even if you live in a concrete jungle, nature finds a way. Because today, we’re talking about something ancient, something intuitive, something our bodies still remember even if our modern world has forgotten. We are talking about eating seasonally — aligning our plates, our microbiome, our rhythms, and our well-being with the natural cycles that sustained our ancestors for thousands of years.
What is eating seasonally?
Here on the homestead, seasons aren’t just a theme we post about online — they guide everything. We just had daylight savings time, which i genuinely believe is psychological warfare as it takes us out of our rhythms and disconnects us from nature. It's jarring moving the time.
I feel the rhythms in the soil when I plant, in the pantry shelves when I preserve, in the animals’ rhythms, in my energy levels, in the way the earth smells in different months. There’s mud on my boots in spring from prepping garden beds, sticky berry stains on my hands in summer from gathering fruit, the warm perfume of simmering squash and broth in fall, and the slow, comforting hum of soups and stews filling the house in winter. I'll be honest, it is fall now and my boots are covered in muck everytime I go out to milk the goats. It's quite the sight. One time in the spring I wore sandals out after a rain and made the mistake of stepping around their hay feeder and all the muck seeped into my shoes. Now that, was something.
But living close to nature reminds you that life is not meant to be the same every month — not in what we eat, how we move, or how we rest. Yet, somewhere along the way, as convenience rose and industry replaced intuition, we lost that rhythm. Refrigerated trucks, global distribution systems, and supermarket culture made it so we can eat strawberries in December, watermelon in January, and tomatoes every single week of the year. But just because we can doesn’t mean we should — and our bodies know it.
How do you eat in season?
Let's imagine our ancestors for a moment. They didn’t write “seasonal eating” on mason jar labels or talk about it in wellness circles. It wasn’t a trend — it was life. Food wasn’t a constant buffet of whatever sounded good; it was what the land offered — what was growing, what could be gathered, what could be hunted, or what had been preserved with wisdom and patience. In spring, they reached for bitter greens and cleansing herbs that woke the liver from its winter slumber. In summer, juicy fruits and cooling vegetables hydrated them through labor in the sun. In fall, hearty roots, squashes, fats, and grains nourished and prepared them for cold months. In winter, they relied on animal fats, broths, fermented vegetables, dried herbs, and whatever root crops they’d stored away — dense calories for warmth and survival. There were seasons for sweetness, seasons for fat, seasons for cleansing, seasons for fasting, seasons for abundance, and seasons for stillness. Nature guided them, and because of that, they thrived in harmony rather than fighting their biology.
How do antibiotics affect the gut?
And here’s where it gets fascinating: Our gut microbiome — the trillions of bacteria that live in our digestive system — cycles with the seasons, just like soil microbes do. Studies have shown that the gut bacteria in populations that still live traditionally shift throughout the year. Different food fibers feed different microbes, and the body benefits from these shifts.
And if you think about it, antibiotics affect the microbiome and kill off different kinds, and we are in an antibiotics-rich generation where they are prescribed for everything.
In winter, microbes that help extract energy from fats and starches flourish; in summer, microbes that support hydration and fresh plant digestion thrive. Our immune system even changes with the seasons — certain immune cells increase at different times of year, working in sync with our environment.
Seasonal eating isn't “woo”; it's biology. It's the way we were created, and I think that's amazing how we work together with nature. It's the rhythm our gut, our hormones, our detox pathways, our immune system, and our metabolism are built around.
What are allergies from?
Think of your gut like a garden. If you only plant one thing, your soil becomes depleted. If you only eat the same foods all year — the same greens, the same fruits, the same grains, the same proteins — your microbiome becomes narrow, and narrow equals fragile. Seasonal diversity, on the other hand, builds microbial strength. The gut thrives on change — on different fibers, fermentable carbohydrates, bitter compounds, mineral profiles, and nutrient densities.
And here’s a secret most people never think about: the microbes on local foods — the ones actually growing in your soil — also shape your internal ecosystem. When you eat local produce, raw dairy from a local farm, honey from a local beekeeper, fermented vegetables made with microbes from your air, you’re inoculating your body with the same microbial landscape you’re living in. That means your immune system learns your environment. It learns what’s safe, what’s not, what pollen is normal for your area, what microbes are beneficial. People today struggle with allergies, sensitivities, autoimmune flares, and chronic inflammation — and part of that is because our bodies are no longer receiving microbial “education.” I also think it's due to what's being sprayed in the air and what is injected into us...I mean 25 vaccines for a baby before they're one? Come on.
But instead of getting information from the land, we live in sterilized homes, use antibacterial products, and eat factory-washed, irradiated, globally shipped produce that has more sticker residue than living life on it.
What edible foods grow in spring?
Spring is a perfect example of how elegantly the earth feeds the body — and how deeply nature understands us. After a long winter, when foods were traditionally heavier, fattier, and more preserved, spring arrives with bitter greens, tender shoots, sprouts, wild herbs, and fresh eggs. These foods naturally stimulate the liver, encourage gentle detoxification, support digestion, and replenish minerals. Think about dandelions, a plant that is so demonized and attacked. It grows freely in our yards and supports our liver and whole bodyt really. The spring plants wake us up as we are waking up ourselves.
Anyone who has eaten fresh nettles, dandelion greens, spring onions, or young herbs right out of the soil knows that unmistakable taste — vibrant, slightly bitter, alive. They are like nature’s reset button. Our microbiome responds by shifting toward bacteria that metabolize fresh plant compounds, enzymes surge, and energy begins to rise. We crave movement again. The earth opens — and so do we.
What edible plants grow in the summer?
Then comes summer. The season of warmth, expansion, long days, and hard work. Garden beds explode with food. The air smells like fruit and grass and sun-warmed soil. Foods become juicy, hydrating, mineral-rich. Berries stain fingers, cucumbers crunch with cooling water, tomatoes burst with sunlight, melons drip down your wrist. These foods are not accidents — they are hydration, glucose for higher activity levels, antioxidants to support sun exposure, vitamin C for skin and immunity, and natural electrolytes to replace what’s lost in sweat. When the body is warm, digestion speeds up and raw foods feel good — nature knows. The gut shifts again, favoring microbes that thrive on fresh fiber and raw enzymes. And emotionally, summer food carries joy — bright flavors, quick meals, gatherings around the garden or grill. It is abundance embodied.
What edible plants grow in the fall?
And then, just as the heat begins to soften and the leaves hint at gold, fall arrives. Our bodies instinctively shift — we crave warmth, deeper flavors, complex carbohydrates, minerals, and grounding density. The earth gives root vegetables, squashes, apples, pears, herbs going to seed, and the final bursts of late-summer produce. This is the season of broth simmering on the stove, roasted vegetables caramelizing in the oven, long walks through crisp air, the first sweaters, the first fire in the wood stove. Fall foods feed microbes that strengthen gut lining, stabilize blood sugar, and prepare the body for colder months. This is when traditional cultures increased fermented foods, consumed more cultured dairy, and made sourdough. Our ancestors didn’t know about the microbiome — yet at the same time, they knew everything about it.
What seasonal foods can you eat in the winter?
And then winter. The rest season. The season of fat, broth, warmth, stews, mineral-rich soups, storage crops, preserved vegetables, and fermented foods. The body slows; digestion needs warmth and simplicity. Winter foods provide deep nourishment — collagen for tissue repair, gelatin for gut health, fats for warmth and hormone support, slow-cooked meals for digestion, ferments for immune protection. Historically, winter was also a time of intermittent fasting, not by intention but reality — less food, simpler meals, metabolic reset. The gut shifts again, emphasizing microbes that extract energy efficiently and support fat metabolism. Modern culture fears fats and carbs, but traditional winter diets included both — always in their whole forms, always paired with movement, cold exposure, and rest. Winter is not a season of deficiency — it is a season of deep, concentrated nourishment and metabolic recalibration.
And here’s the beautiful thread weaving through all of this: eating seasonally naturally balances your hormones, your immune system, your energy, and your metabolism. It aligns your circadian rhythm, supports your liver and lymphatic system, improves gut barrier function, and encourages microbial diversity. It also reconnects you to your land — whether that land is a farm, a backyard garden, or a farmer’s market stand in town. When you eat from your region, you're truly living in your environment, not just existing in it. You ride the same rhythms as the soil, the trees, the bees, the sunlight. You're not outsourcing your biology to Chilean berries or imported apples or lettuce grown in a fluorescent hydroponic warehouse. You're supporting local farmers, honoring the earth where you live, and nourishing yourself through relationship rather than convenience.
What diet connects you to your body?
And the longer I live this way — the more obvious the connection becomes between seasonal eating and seasonal living overall. In spring, you feel that itch to clean, organize, move your body, plant seeds. In summer, your energy rises, you stay out longer, you move more. In fall, you feel yourself slowing, preparing, preserving, grounding. In winter, your body asks for rest, warmth, quiet, reflection. Our bodies crave this instinctively — but our modern system pushes the same pace all year. Same hours. Same foods. Same stress. Same routines. No wonder our bodies rebel. Nature cycles — and so must we.
Does diet affect skin?
Eating this way changes your skin too — because your skin is not separate from your internal health. The fats you eat in winter become the fats that support your skin barrier, the minerals from spring greens support your detox pathways, the antioxidants from summer fruit protect collagen, the fermented foods in fall and winter feed your skin microbiome just as much as your gut. This is why I always say: nourishment on your plate and nourishment on your skin go hand in hand. Our skin doesn’t need lab-made chemical substitutes; it thrives on natural fats, minerals, and bioavailable compounds just as much as our gut does. When you honor food in its pure, seasonal form, your skin glows. When you support your body with real ancestral ingredients topically — things like tallow, herbs, oils, and botanical infusions — your skin recognizes it just like it recognizes spring greens and autumn squash. Nature knows nature.
So how do we return to seasonal eating in a world where you can buy blueberries in December and tomatoes every month of the year? Start small, start local, and start curious. Notice what produce shows up at your farmer’s market each month. Grow even one or two things at home — herbs in pots, lettuce in a bed, a cherry tomato plant by the patio. Learn what fruits and vegetables naturally grow in your area and when. Choose raw dairy from a local farm if available. Buy local honey, not honey shipped across the world. Ferment something — a jar of carrots, sauerkraut, kefir, whatever calls to you. Pay attention to what your body craves as seasons shift — those cravings are not random. That desire for fresh crisp vegetables in early spring or rich broths in winter isn’t a coincidence — it's your biology remembering.
And most importantly — build a relationship with your food again. Because seasonal eating isn't rigid. It's not a perfection game. It's a returning. A remembering. A gentle tuning-in to the earth’s clock instead of the grocery store’s supply chain. It's learning the timing of asparagus shoots, the excitement of the first ripe strawberries, the sweetness of late-summer corn, the deep comfort of slow-roasted squash. It's the joy of seeing pantry shelves lined with jars you filled yourself, and the peace that comes from knowing you are nourished in a way that honors both your ancestors and your future.
So as you move through your week, maybe take a moment at the store or the market or your garden and simply ask: What is the earth offering right now? Then honor it. Taste it slowly. Let your body re-learn the rhythm it was born with.
Eat with the seasons. Trust the wisdom of your body. Honor the land you live on. And remember — every time you cook, ferment, gather, plant, harvest, or nourish yourself, you are participating in the most ancient health practice that exists. You aren't just feeding your body; you're feeding your microbiome, your lineage, your nervous system, and your soul.
Until next time, stay curious, stay connected, and stay rooted in nature. If you enjoyed today, share it with someone who needs a gentle reminder that nature is still the best teacher. And if you want to nourish your skin the same way you nourish your body — simply, seasonally, ancestrally — you know where to find my handmade tallow balms and natural skin essentials. They’re made with the same philosophy we talked about today: simple, real, traditional, effective, and in harmony with the body's design.
See you next episode, friends. And until then — happy seasonal eating, happy homesteading, and may your plate always follow the rhythm of the earth.
