So I’m Starting an Urban Farm in My Backyard

Jun 29

Buttercrunch and Red Ruby lettuce with young white onion sprouts growing in a rich backyard garden bed at Prairie Dog Farms. — Close-up of a mixed lettuce bed at Prairie Dog Farms featuring vibrant Buttercrunch and Red Ruby leaves, nestled between sprouting white onions. Captured in early morning light, this snapshot reflects the healthy start of a spring salad bed in a no-till urban garden.

Now I know what you’re thinking:

“There is NO way you’re starting a farm in your backyard!”

And you’d be right. Technically, it’s not a farm—yet.
Right now, it’s an idea. A series of mistakes, successes, and experiments that’ll eventually lay the foundation for something bigger.

I was never the “grow-your-own-food” kind of guy.

Back in college (2016–2020), I couldn’t care less about what I ate. I hated dirty hands, dirty fingernails, and the patience that came with growing anything? Forget about it. Even walking to the fridge felt like too much work.

So how did we end up here?

THE ROOT OF IT

Flashback to 2022. Pandemic chaos. The world shuts down.

I was invited to a Christmas party by a group of new friends—thanks to my twin brother

(Yep, I’m a twin… no, we’re not identical. Cue the sad violin).

That year, at our Secret Santa gift exchange, someone handed me a Bonsai Tree Starter Kit. And just like that, my obsession with growing things took root. (pun very much intended)

Young bonsai seedlings of Royal Poinciana and Rocky Mountain Pine in clay pots under indoor grow light.

Early bonsai seedlings of Royal Poinciana and Rocky Mountain Pine growing indoors in clay pots with labeled markers.

Indoor bonsai seedlings of Royal Poinciana and Wisteria in early growth stages on a tarp-covered floor.

Close-up of a young Wattle acacia tree growing under indoor grow lights with fern-like leaves.

Acacia tree seedlings growing under LED grow lights indoors, labeled with plant markers in a blue container.

Now I know what you’re thinking again:

“That’s cute, Zach. But how do you go from Bonsai trees to a whole entire farm?”

Stay with me.

After germinating a few trees in my noisy city bedroom, I couldn’t stop. I was hooked. Anything with a seed, I wanted to throw into soil just to see what would happen. Green onion scraps in a jar? Lettuce stumps in water? YouTube said “Never buy produce again”

So I tried it all. Some flopped. Some flourished. But no matter what, I loved the process.

Then came the mangoes.

Now, I live in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Zone 6b.
Growing mango trees in your bedroom? Not advised.
Did that stop me? Absolutely not.

Mango seedling in early growth stage with reddish stem and emerging leaves in a yellow pot.

Young mango tree with glossy, deep green and burgundy leaves developing indoors under grow lights.

Top-down view of mango tree developing rich red-tinted new leaves and glossy older foliage.

Healthy mango tree in intermediate growth stage with symmetrical, bright green leaves in a yellow container.

Mature mango tree in beige pot placed outdoors, with tall stem and fully developed dark green leaves.

It took me over a year and more mangoes than I care to admit, but eventually, I got one to germinate. While I waited, I started growing everything else I could think of—in that same bedroom. Cabbage. Tomatoes. Peppers. Herbs. If Home Depot sold seeds, I was planting them.

Indoor grow setup with labeled seed trays, young seedlings, and grow lights including acacia, basil, chives, corn, and tomato. — My Bedroom Garden Starter Setup

This is where it all began. Tucked under a set of grow lights, my bedroom turned into a nursery for everything from acacia trees to tomatoes. Each labeled tray marks a different experiment—corn pushing through in the blue pot, basil and chives sprouting in rows, and a young wisteria soaking up the glow. It’s chaotic, hopeful, and surprisingly peaceful. Just me, my plants, and a few purple LEDs.

THE WHY

In 2023, I moved back to my childhood home in the suburbs of Pittsburgh. And with that move, I received a gift I didn’t recognize at first: land. Not acres—but enough. Enough to try. Enough to begin.

That spring, I built my first two raised beds.
One held tomatoes, basil, jalapeños, coolapeños, carrots, and rosemary.
The other? Blackberry bushes, blueberries, strawberries, and lavender.
I didn’t know what I was doing. But honestly? That didn’t matter.
It made me happy.

Backyard space before starting Prairie Dog Farms, showing bare soil, wooden fence, scattered tools, and shaded trees in the background. — **Before it became Prairie Dog Farms,**

**this quiet corner held the first vision of something bigger: a backyard transformed into a thriving urban farm."**

Fast forward to 2024—I was working a sales job I hated (we’ll leave the company unnamed, just in case they’re litigious). Management was awful. I felt stuck. Every day I clocked in, I was silently clocking out of who I wanted to be.

In that same year, I started watching hours of YouTube content on homesteading and market gardening. Not with plans to pursue it professionally… I was just fascinated. But on January 20th, 2025, I quit. And I decided—I’m going to become a farmer.

WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE RIGHT NOW

Early summer garden at Prairie Dog Farms showing mulched rows of tomatoes, cabbage, container beds, and young seedlings in a suburban backyard. — This image shows Prairie Dog Farms in full swing—an early summer snapshot of the no-till backyard garden in Pittsburgh. Tomato plants stand in neatly mulched rows, while cabbages, container crops, and young seedlings thrive nearby. A clear view of growth, progress, and the shift from bare ground to flourishing food production.

“OK! There you go Zach. Now things are starting to make sense!”

Almost. Stick with me.

After I quit, I had a conversation with my mom about my wild new dream. She said something along the lines of:

“If you can turn that backyard into a farm, you can make it as a market gardener.”

That was all I needed.

From January through March, I was in deep. Studying everything I could about the business and culture of market gardening. I learned about mulching, cover crops, succession planting, companion planting. I was starting to sound like I knew what I was doing.

I was becoming a farmer.

Only problem? It was the dead of winter—and I didn’t have a farm yet.

So I kept learning. I kept watching. One day while binge-watching No-Till Growers on YouTube, Farmer Jesse said something that stuck:

“Before you commit to farming, try apprenticing.”

So I took his advice. I searched for a program—and I found one.
In April 2025, I was accepted into the Grow Pittsburgh pre-apprenticeship.

That opportunity gave me hands-on experience I didn’t even know I needed. I started learning not just from books or videos—but from people who do this every day. From transplanting to harvest, I got my hands in the dirt with folks who knew what they were doing. And honestly, that’s where everything started to click.

The weather finally broke, and I was outside at home immediately.
I tore down my old raised beds and started building in-ground ones. I tilled. I mixed. I mulched. I planted. I fertilized. I committed.

As I write this, it’s mid-June—and things are finally starting to pop up.
And I love it.

The literal fruits of my labor (lol).

WHAT I HOPE TO BUILD

Standing on Soil, Ready to Grow

This is where it all begins. Just me and a patch of dry, compact, heavy clay soil—definitely not the easiest start. I had my work cut out for me, but every garden has to start somewhere.

“Wow… you’re really building a farm in your backyard.”

Yeah… I told you that in the beginning.

I’ve kept houseplants alive. Grown a tomato or two. But this? This is different. I’m talking rows. I’m talking cover crops. I’m talking systems.

My hope is to grow Prairie Dog Farms into a legit, small-scale market garden.
Right now, it’s where I drink my morning coffee.
But one day? I want it to feed my family. Feed my community. Feed strangers.

I’m doing this because I believe in growing things. Because the world feels chaotic, and this feels grounding. Because I want to eat food I can trust. Because I want to build something with my hands, not just my thoughts.

And maybe

Just maybe

Because I want to prove to myself that I can.

I want PDF to become a place where people who look like me

And people who’ve never been given the tools

Can have access to clean, honest, nourishing food.

So I’m doing this one bed, one seed, one harvest at a time.

Grab your budget-friendly tools. Lace up those worn-out boots.
Come grow with me.

Worst case? You learn how to grow some lettuce for your summer salad.
Or maybe you end up making a banging salsa from plants you raised yourself.

But like I said

That’s the worst case.

Welcome to the Prairie.

starting a gardenbackyard farmingbeginner growerfood sovereigntyPittsburgh gardening

Zachary Majors

Founder & Head Grower at Prairie Dog Farms

With a B.A. in Multimedia/Graphic Design from Point Park University, he combines creativity with a passion for regenerative agriculture, food sovereignty, and building community through gardening.

On the blog, Zachary shares beginner-friendly garden tips, sustainable growing methods, and real-life lessons from transforming his backyard into a no-till, quarter-acre market garden.

When he’s not tending to crops or helping others start their own gardens, you’ll likely find him hiking Pittsburgh’s trails, lifting at the gym, or mapping out the next season’s grow plan.

https://www.prairiedogfarms.com/