LANDING IN WINNSBORO

Home is Where the Mailbox is!

Late December feels like a lifetime ago and yesterday all at once. That was the week we rolled the rig onto the land for the very first time—our little home on wheels settling into the soft hills of Winnsboro like it had been waiting for us. The grass was winter‑pale, the air sharp, and everything felt both unfamiliar and exactly right. We didn’t have much then. No water. No electricity. No septic. No propane. Just a patch of East Texas soil and a dream we were still learning how to hold.

But that’s how most beginnings are, isn’t it? A little wild. A little uncertain. A little thrilling.

We parked the rig, stepped out onto the land, and looked around at the place that would become Southern Charm Flower Farm. It didn’t look like a farm yet—not even close. But it felt like one. And sometimes feeling comes before form.

A Quick Detour to Las Vegas

Before we could settle in fully, I whisked Duckie off to Paris Las Vegas for her 21st birthday. I’d tell you all about it, but… well… it was Vegas. One story bears repeating - she sat down at her first ever slot machine, stuck in a $20 and didn't even realize what was happening as she pocket a cool $265. Hilarious. As to the rest of our trip, let’s just say we laughed a lot, slept very little, and made memories I’ll tuck away forever. It was a strange, glittering pause between two very different worlds: neon lights and desert air on one side, quiet pastureland and pine trees waiting for me on the other.

A Quiet Christmas in a New Place

We came back to Winnsboro just in time for Christmas—our first one here. It was quiet, simple, and exactly what we needed. No big tree, no elaborate plans. Just the three of us, the dogs, a few twinkling lights, and the soft hum of a town we were just beginning to understand. It felt like the kind of Christmas you remember years later, not because of what you did, but because of how it felt.

Santa Found Us!

The First Steps Toward a Farm

January arrived with a to‑do list longer than the driveway. Before we could think about flowers, we had to think about survival. Water. Electricity. Septic. Propane. The unglamorous backbone of rural life. Each one came with its own set of challenges, delays, and small victories. But piece by piece, the land began to support us. We celebrated my birthday enjoying life on the land - clearing brush, massive piles of leaves and a big stretch for the tunnel. Duckie quickly learned to operate the tractor and jumped right in to help us shape the dream. I rushed to start seeds, already feeling way behind in the season. Rob rented and operated all the large equipment he dreamed of, part earnest work and equal measures of fun.

Our (wonderful) neighbors told us this property was once pristine pastureland, the kind of open field you could see straight across. But it hadn’t been touched in nearly two decades. The grass was shoulder‑high in places, thick and tangled, hiding dips and stumps and surprises. And the trees—so many trees. Beautiful, yes, but also weary. Some leaning, some hollow, some long past saving.

We started with what we had: a chainsaw that occasionally cooperated but never with finesse, a pair of gloves, and a lot of determination. I told Rob that for every tree he removed, I’d plant two more. He laughed, but I meant it. Stewardship, not stripping—that’s the promise I want this farm to grow from.

Learning the Land, One Patch at a Time

We’ve spent these past weeks working nonstop. Clearing. Planning. Dreaming. Arguing with roots that refuse to budge. Celebrating the small wins. Collapsing into bed with sore muscles and full hearts. And all the while, I’ve still been working my day job—logging into meetings with dirt under my nails and a field waiting outside the window.

It’s messy. It’s exhausting. It’s beautiful.

And it’s ours.

 The Beginning of Southern Charm

This is the first official blog post as Southern Charm Flower Farm, but it’s really just a continuation of the story we’ve been living — building dreams — one campground, one county line, one sunrise at a time. Only now, the story has roots. Actual roots. In actual soil. In a place that already feels like home. I've never experienced a place where everyone - and I mean everyone - is so kind and pleasant. It brings joy to me every single time I meet someone new. And it's so completely genuine.

We’re still in the “before the blooms” season. The land is waking up slowly, stretching, testing the light. And so are we. There’s so much more to come—rows to plant, fences to build, flowers to coax into being. But for now, this is where the story begins. Right here. In this quiet corner of East Texas. With two tired humans, two joyful dogs, and a years-long dream finally taking shape.

Greetings from Winnsboro!