Blog

Since I now work from home full-time, having a reliable internet connection isn’t a luxury. It is mission critical. When the local provider told us our only option was a shaky 6 Mbps DSL line, we knew it wouldn’t cut it. Instead of settling, we decided to do what we always do: build something better ourselves.

Enter “Dishy McFlatFace.” This little dish surprised us. It delivers around 250 Mbps download speeds, and so far it has been rock solid.

With that accomplished, it felt right to start laying the groundwork for the rest of the homestead’s digital backbone. I have begun installing our network rack. It will eventually hold our WiFi, POE cameras, and, down the road, home automation gear. Wherever possible, I am hard wiring connections instead of depending on wireless alone. I want dependable, stable systems that let us focus on the real work of farm life without fights over buffering or camera feeds that drop out.

Because at the end of the day, this place is not just land. It is our home. It is our base. And in many ways, it is the foundation for everything we hope to build.

We may be deep in the hills of northeast Tennessee now, surrounded by ridgelines and woods instead of concrete and streetlights, but that does not mean we are giving up the comforts that help our lives run smoothly. We are simply blending what is essential with what is meaningful. The quiet of the mountains, the smell of fresh trees and soil, the hard work of building something real, and also a connection to the world when we need it.

This little upgrade might seem small to some. Two hundred fifty Mbps internet and a rack with cables. But for us, it is one of the first bricks in a long term foundation. Steady internet means I can work, communicate, plan, share this journey, and stay connected while the rest of the farm grows slowly and intentionally.

Just like our animals, our gardens, and our land, we are starting with the basics, doing them right, and building from the ground up.

We’ve Arrived in Tennessee

It still feels surreal to type those words, but here we are: Tennessee. New ground under our boots, new mountains on the horizon, and a new chapter beginning whether we feel fully ready for it or not.

For those who’ve been with us a while, you know this journey didn’t start overnight. Back in 2013, when most people thought we’d lost our minds, we traded sidewalks and convenience for a dusty road and raw land in Zephyrhills, Florida. That decision set off a chain reaction we never could have predicted. One that reshaped what food meant to us, reformed our daily rhythms, and taught our girls (and us) more about life and death than any book ever could.

That land became our first classroom. Chickens, gardens, soil, failures, victories, compost piles that never heated up, and eggs that did. Fresh food on our table and a deeper appreciation for where it came from. We learned a lot out there on that piece of Florida sand.

But over time, we also felt a stirring. It was quiet at first, then louder. We wanted more room to stretch, more terrain to steward, more long-term potential for regenerative grazing, water capture, and careful land management. We wanted a place that could not just feed us, but feed others too. We wanted a place that our children might someday call home, not just a stepping stone.

And so, after ten years of sweat, hard work, and plenty of tears, we packed our lives into trailers, hugged goodbye to the place that raised us into farmers, and pointed our headlights north.

Forty acres of steep, wooded mountains waited for us here in northeast Tennessee. Our first sunrise looked like something from a postcard. Pink light across the ridges, fog sitting low like the land was exhaling. Beautiful… and intimidating. This ground is different. The work will be different. But so will the possibilities.

Right now it’s mostly trees, shale, and the kind of slopes that make you rethink what “flat” means. There’s a small barn that’s more of a shed, no fencing, no real farm infrastructure beyond what nature already designed. But that’s exactly what we love about it. It’s a blank slate, the start of something big and long-term. A chance to rebuild our farm slowly and intentionally.

As winter settles in around us and we adjust to the mountain cold, we’re looking forward to sharing this journey the same way we always have: honestly, imperfectly, and with all the lessons that come along.

We’ll share the land-clearing days, the experiments, the mistakes, the building projects, the successes, and the slow transformation of this wild hillside into a working landscape that honors the land and nourishes the people who stand on it.

Here’s to Tennessee.
Here’s to new beginnings.
Here’s to doing things our way.

— The Langley Family