NO REST FOR THE WEARY

Tunnel all ready to grow!

The moment the tunnel was planted, it was like the whole farm shifted gears. One space was finally settled, and suddenly every other corner of the land started calling my name. And waiting for me—stacked on tables and crowding every spare inch of tunnel space —were trays and trays of seedlings ready for their turn in the soil.

Rob was out of town for a week—work trip plus a visit with The Little in Arkansas—so it was just me, the dogs, and a to‑do list that looked more like a dare. While he was gone, I laid out row after row in the outdoor gardens and filled them to the brim with seedlings. Every tray I emptied felt like a tiny victory. Every row I finished felt like a small chapter in the story of this land waking up.

But seedlings were only the beginning.

Some people impulse‑buy purses. I impulse‑buy plants. First, it was perennials: echinacea, sidalcea, salvias, astilbe, and fourteen rose bushes to get started with. I kept it “cool” on the peonies—only sixteen. Yes, I said only. I know who I am.

You can’t have a flower farm without the landscaping being beautiful. It’s practically a rule.

See the paws in the row? Daisy.

But perennials were the least of my issues. Whie I've daydreamed about the farm over the years; I've always envisioned an orchard as part of the dream.

By the end of the week, the beginnings of a full orchard were tucked into the earth. If you're keeping count (Rob most certainly is - and he's not amused), we're starting with a total of:

• two peaches

• two pecans

• two plums

• three apples

• two figs

• fourteen raspberries

• two blackberries

• four blueberries (which reminds me—I absolutely need more blueberry plants)

• three cherries

• three flowering cherries, because beauty matters too - as we have already established.

  
  

What can I say? I really like fruit.

Daisy and Luna were beside me the entire time, which means that over one weekend they were

outside from dawn to dusk, “helping” in their own special ways. Daisy supervised with her usual quiet authority along with a healthy dose of what we can call enthusiastic soil disturbance, her big ole paws tilling the soil everywhere I had already panted. Luna was with the program too offering hydration services. Wink, wink. And before anyone clutches their pearls—this is a no‑till farm, y’all. The dogs are just comedians with muddy paws.

By the time evening rolled in each night, I was spent. The kind of tired that settles deep in your bones but feels earned. I’d fall into bed with dirt still under my nails, muscles humming, and a quiet pride blooming right alongside everything I’d planted.

Crashed on the Couch with Lu, my phone and Diet Coke. What more could I need

It was a week of work that stretched me thin, filled me up, and reminded me—again—why I chose this life. Rows planted, orchard started, perennials tucked in, dogs happy, heart full.

Yep, this little dream is really starting to take root.