I’m Lena Sledge

I’m Lena Sledge—actress, award-winning filmmaker, author, and lifelong storyteller with nearly two decades in the film industry. Whether I’m directing behind the camera or mentoring new talent, I’m passionate about helping others find their voice and share their stories.

I’m also a wife, mom, grandmother, and sandwich caregiver who found peace and purpose through homesteading. On Home With Lena, I share practical tips for gardening, food preservation, DIY living, and self-care—because I know how easy it is to lose yourself while taking care of everyone else. This space is where creativity meets sustainability, and where you’re always welcome to grow, rest, and begin again.

When Lena Sledge acts, people stare and listen. I've been there and witnessed that happening time and time again.
Lena Sledge
Actor

Grow With Me

Lena, a certified master gardener, is passionate about self-sufficiency and sustainability. She simplifies gardening and food preservation, helping individuals take control of their food sources with confidence.

From growing food to preserving it through canning, dehydration, and fermentation, Lena shares practical techniques. She also offers herbal recipes and DIY inspirations.

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    Blog/Recipes

    Finding Balance When You’re a Sandwich Caregiver

    A sandwich caregiver is someone who’s caring for both younger and older generations at the same time—often their own children or grandchildren, and aging parents. It’s a role filled with love, responsibility, and sometimes, deep emotional conflict.

    I know this role all too well. I’m a sandwich caregiver for my 3-year-old grandson, whom I adore with every fiber of my being. Being a grandmother is pure joy—his laughter lights up my days. He is my sunshine, my joy, my reminder that innocence and wonder still exist in this world.

    But on the other side of my “sandwich,” I’m also a caregiver for my father, who has vascular dementia—a type of dementia caused by reduced blood flow to the brain. It can lead to confusion, memory loss, mood swings, and difficulty with reasoning. Life expectancy varies, but often ranges between 5 to 10 years after diagnosis, depending on overall health and progression.

    Caring for him feels… different. Unlike the joy-filled moments with my grandson, this care sometimes feels more like an obligation than a gift. My father wasn’t a present or good father when I was growing up. Now, in his illness, he’s trying to be better, and while I allow him the space to do so, it’s an odd, complicated dance. We’re trying to find our “new normal.”

    He’s in therapy now—something I wish he’d started 50 or 60 years ago. I insist he goes, even when he protests. I know the road ahead will get harder, and as his dementia progresses, therapy will give him a safe place to talk, release fears, and process emotions with someone other than me or my sisters. His therapist has also been a sandwich caregiver—her own mother had dementia. That shared understanding makes a world of difference.

    I see her, too. She gives me insight, perspective, and tools I wouldn’t have considered, helping me approach my father with more patience and empathy, even with the baggage of our past.

    One of the most important lessons I’ve learned is that I have to make space for me. I’ve had to grieve the life I thought I’d be living at this stage. I take time for myself, no matter how small, because without it, I’d lose myself completely. That’s why gardening is sacred to me. It’s mine. My refuge. My safe space. It’s where I dance, cry, meditate, speak to God and my ancestors. It’s where I’m reminded that life still grows, still thrives, even when it’s surrounded by decay.

    The truth is: this shit is hard. I cry—a lot sometimes. But I get up, and I try again.

    The Stress of Sandwich Caregiving

    Sandwich caregivers often juggle work, family obligations, financial pressures, and the physical and emotional demands of caregiving—all at once. These stressors can lead to chronic fatigue, depression, anxiety, and burnout. Unlike single-generation caregivers, sandwich caregivers carry the weight of being “everything to everyone” in two opposite stages of life at the same time. It can be overwhelming.

    A Few Ways to Manage Stress and Protect Your Mental Health:
    • Set boundaries. It’s okay to say no. Protect time that’s yours.
    • Make time for joy. Whether it’s gardening, walking, crafting, or reading—give yourself guilt-free moments.
    • Delegate when you can. Involve other family members or use respite care services.
    • Stay connected. Support groups, friends, or online communities can remind you you’re not alone.

    Why Therapy Matters

    Therapy isn’t just for your loved one—it’s for you, too. A good therapist can help you process complicated emotions, manage stress, and keep perspective. Therapy is not weakness; it’s survival.

    If you are a dementia caregiver or a sandwich caregiver looking for help:

    Life doesn’t pause when you’re a sandwich caregiver—it keeps moving. There will be preschool milestones, bike rides, and belly laughs. There will also be hospital visits, memory lapses, and hard conversations. Somewhere in the middle of all of that, you must claim your space. Because you matter, too.

    How to Close Down Your Spring Garden Without Feeling Overwhelmed

    Spring is such a hopeful season in the garden—full of tender greens, bright radishes, and the joy of fresh beginnings. But before you know it, the season shifts, the weather heats up, and your spring garden starts to fade. Closing down your garden might feel like saying goodbye, but it’s really about clearing space, refreshing the soil, and getting ready for the next chapter.

    Here’s how I like to wrap up my spring garden in a way that feels manageable and rewarding.

    1. Harvest What’s Left

    I always start with a basket in hand. Before pulling anything out, I walk through and gather what’s still growing. Tender peas, the last radishes, maybe even herbs that are hanging on. Nothing gets wasted—if I can’t eat it right away, I pickle it, dehydrate it, or toss it in the freezer for later.

    If a plant has bolted and gone to seed, I let some of those seeds dry out and save them. It’s a little gift to my future garden.

    2. Clear Out the Old

    Next, I pull up the plants that are done producing. Healthy plants go straight to my compost pile, while anything with signs of disease goes into a trash bag instead. (Trust me—don’t compost diseased plants or you’ll regret it next year!)

    While I’m at it, I look closely at the soil line and under leaves for sneaky pests. Closing down your garden is the perfect chance to break that cycle before it carries into the next season.

    3. Give the Soil Some Love

    After months of producing food for me, the soil deserves a little nourishment in return. I like to spread a couple of inches of compost and work it into the top layer. Sometimes I add mulch or even plant a cover crop like clover if I know a bed will rest a while. Think of it as tucking the soil in for a little nap.

    4. Tackle the Weeds

    Oh, the weeds. This is my least favorite part, but it makes such a difference later. I pull them now—especially before they go to seed—and then lay down a layer of mulch. Future me will be so grateful for a cleaner start when it’s time to plant again.

    5. Plan for What’s Next

    Here’s the fun part—thinking ahead! Once the beds are cleared and refreshed, I can transition into summer crops like tomatoes, beans, and peppers. If I’m aiming for a fall harvest, I start seeds indoors or get the soil prepped so it’s ready when the time comes.

    I also love using mulch or row covers to keep weeds down and protect tender new plants while the weather changes.

    6. Don’t Forget the Tools

    Your garden tools worked hard this spring too. I give mine a quick clean, scrub off the dirt, and wipe them down with a little oil so they don’t rust. It only takes a few minutes and keeps everything ready for the next round.

    7. Reflect and Take Notes

    Before I call it done, I jot down some quick notes about what worked well, what didn’t, and what I want to try differently next time. Sometimes I even snap a few photos of the beds—because by next spring, I always forget the details.

    Closing Thought

    Closing down your spring garden doesn’t have to feel like an ending. It’s more like pressing reset. You clear away what’s finished, feed the soil, and make space for the next season’s abundance. It’s one of those small, steady rhythms of gardening that keeps everything flowing.

    Beginner Canning Basics: From My Kitchen to Yours

    If you’ve ever tasted something homemade, straight from the jar, you know it just hits different. Store-bought jelly can’t compete with the flavor of something you’ve put a little love into. Canning might sound intimidating at first, but I promise, once you get the hang of it, you’ll wonder why you didn’t start sooner.

    Here are a few things I wish somebody had told me when I first started:

    • Use the good stuff: Only put your best fruits and veggies in those jars. If it’s too soft or bruised to eat fresh, it’s too far gone for canning.
    • Don’t skimp on the tools: You’ll need jars, lids, rings, a funnel, and a big pot. That’s about it to get going.
    • Stick to trusted recipes: Avoid “eyeballing it.” With canning, tested recipes keep your food safe and your family healthy.
    • Keep it clean and hot: Wash jars and lids, keep them warm until filling, and wipe rims before sealing.
    • Follow the process: High-acid foods (like fruits and jams) go in a water bath canner. Low-acid foods (like green beans) need a pressure canner.

    Canning really is just cooking with a little patience and a lot of love. When you hear those jars ping as they seal, it’s music to your ears.

    My Easy Grape Jelly Recipe

    This one is an old standby—sweet, simple, and a family favorite.

    You’ll Need:

    • 3 1⁄2 cups grape juice (fresh or bottled, unsweetened)
    • 5 cups sugar
    • 1 box (1.75 oz) powdered fruit pectin
    • Pat of butter (optional)
    How To Make It:
    1. Wash and sterilize about 5 half-pint jars. Keep them hot until you’re ready.
    2. In a large pot, stir together the grape juice and pectin. Bring it to a rolling boil, stirring so it doesn’t scorch.
    3. Add in all the sugar at once. Bring it back to a hard boil, and let it bubble for 1 full minute while stirring. (Add in a pat of butter to reduce foam — this is optional.)
    4. Turn off the heat, skim off any foam (if you didn’t add the pat of butter), and ladle into hot jars. Leave 1⁄4-inch of space at the top. Wipe rims, add lids, and screw bands on fingertip-tight.
    5. Process jars in a boiling water bath for 5 minutes. Carefully remove and let them sit on a towel for 12–24 hours.

    You’ll know they’re sealed when you hear that little pop and the lid doesn’t bounce back.

    How long will it last?

    Sealed jars will keep for 12–18 months in a cool pantry. Once opened, stick it in the fridge and use within a few weeks.

    Serving Tip: Slather it on a hot biscuit, a PB&J, or even brush it over pork chops as a glaze.

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