Every now and then, the farm gives you a moment that just makes you smile. While feeding the chickens and ducks this morning, I kept hearing a soft chirping sound. I was not expecting babies, so I brushed it off at first. Then it happened again.
It turns out one of our Muscovy ducks decided to make a nest on top of the chicken coop without us noticing. She quietly sat on her eggs and hatched a small batch of ducklings all on her own.
The ducklings eventually made their way down and into the coop. The hens looked just as confused as I was, unsure of what to make of the tiny newcomers running between their legs.
Life on the farm has a way of surprising us, usually when we least expect it. And this morning it came in the form of a handful of healthy little ducks that arrived without any help from us at all.
When we moved from Florida, my mom and stepdad came with us. We live upstairs and they live downstairs. It has been a blessing to have family here, but it also means two households trying to share the same space. As time went on, we found ourselves running out of room in the shop building no matter how hard we tried to organize and reduce.
After a lot of sorting and frustration, it became clear that the only real solution was to expand. We are adding on to the existing building so that we can have more functional room. The current structure will stay as general storage. The new section will serve as a wood shop as well as a semi-enclosed carport area for the tractor, lawn mower, and the tools that are constantly in use around the property.
We hired a local contractor named Jake to bring the ground level up around the shop. He graded the slope and built the area up so it meets the existing foundation height. Once the soil settles, concrete will be poured for the new floor and the driveway will be extended.
Right now the project looks like bare dirt and a wider footprint, but it already feels better. There is more space to work and breathe, and room to keep equipment out of the weather. It will make day to day tasks a little easier and the entire place more organized.
It is a simple change, but an important one. A little more space means fewer headaches, smoother projects, and a shop that can keep up with the needs of the farm as it grows.
When we rolled into Tennessee a few months ago, we brought with us five adult sheep. They were the first grazing animals to set foot on this mountain land, and we hoped they would also be the first to help us begin shaping the woods into silvopasture.
So much of this journey has been faith. We do our best, we learn a little, we adjust, then we trust that the land and the animals will teach us the rest.
Today, that reminder arrived in a brand new and unexpected form.
This morning, our first lamb was born on the mountain. No barn, no stall, no alerts. Just a ewe, her newborn, and the cold air rolling through the ridgeline. It was simple and beautiful, and it felt like the land quietly welcomed us.
We have a long road ahead. Pastures are still just ideas framed in temporary electric netting, and there is much to learn about stewarding this steep terrain. But seeing new life arrive here has made this place feel more like home.
Here is to the ewe, the tiny lamb, and the first birth on Tennessee soil. It feels like our journey here has truly begun.
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.
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 freezers were getting a little sparse so we decided to get one last batch of meat chickens in for the year before it gets too cold. Since we’re in Florida, we were able to do this well into November.
A while back, Dad bought two Holstein bulls from a local 4H kid selling them in front of Tractor Supply. He kept them in his yard, but it eventually turned into a muddy mess since it was just too small for them. Fast forward a few months and we decided to bring them nextdoor to our pasture so they’d have more grass to graze on.
The girls are super excited for the new additions. We’re training the cows to electric poly-wire so that we can move their paddocks as needed without investing in permanent fencing.
It’s pretty crazy how some animals develop a personality all of their own. This pig (Periwinkle, I think) acts just like a dog. She wags her little tail and loves being petted. In these photos, she hopped up on top of her feeder to get closer so that I could scratch her head.
Meanwhile, while her sister (Petunia) is nice and is friendly, there is a huge difference between the two. Periwinkle is more friendly and awesome in general.
