Let the Land Lead: Our 1st Year Home

It has been just over a year since I last sat down to write about our journey here at Poor Valley Creek.

A whole year!

And where in the world do I even begin?

Maybe the fact that it has taken me this long to sit down and write another update says something about the year itself. We've been so busy; I haven't had much time to write about it.

Looking back, I honestly cannot believe how much life we've managed to squeeze into twelve months.

There have been fruit trees and grapevines planted, gardens grown, hayfields cut, horses welcomed, chickens raised, kittens born, and a puppy added to the mix. There have been countless construction projects, two family engagements, a new job, a new hip, visitors coming and going, celebrations, heartbreak, sweat, blisters, aching muscles, lessons learned, things that flourished, things that failed spectacularly, and more than a few moments when Dave and I looked at one another and wondered what on earth we had gotten ourselves into.

But mostly, there has been gratitude.

Because we dreamed about this place for years.

For so long, Poor Valley Creek existed partly here in Tennessee and partly in our imaginations. We worked toward it from six hundred miles away, making trip after trip south and squeezing as much work, dreaming, and planning as humanly possible into every visit before turning around and heading north again.

Back then, there was always a someday attached to this place.

Someday we'll live there.

Someday we'll plant the vineyard.

Someday we'll have horses.

Someday we'll make wine.

Someday we'll wake up and Poor Valley Creek won't be the place we're constantly leaving or trying to get back to.

And somehow, almost without us noticing, someday became today.

Poor Valley Creek Vineyard has stopped being the place we were building toward.

It has become the life we are actually living.

Putting Down Roots

On September 11, 2025, our fourth wedding anniversary, we planted our first fruit trees: two Bing Cherry trees and two Elberta Peach trees.

It seemed like an appropriate way to celebrate an anniversary: plant something together, put down roots, and trust that with enough love and tending, it will grow.

Not long afterward, we added a Cortland Apple, a Honeycrisp Apple, a Santa Rosa Plum, and a Kieffer Pear.

Our little orchard sits in the field across Poor Valley Creek from the house, vineyard, and future winery. It's still small, but we have big hopes for it. Eventually, we'd love to see some of that fruit make its way into our wines, our kitchen, and whatever other homemade creations come from this land.

For now, we're simply watching and learning.

So far, most of the trees seem to be doing pretty well. The Cherry trees are looking a little pitiful, but they are ALIVE, and that counts!

We'll see how they all fare through their first Tennessee winter before deciding what to add next spring. There are plenty of other fruit trees we'd love to grow, but we're learning that we don't have to do everything at once.

Plant a few things.

Watch what thrives.

Learn what doesn't.

Then plant some more.

Little by little.

Let the land lead.

From Pine Trees to Grapevines

At the end of March, we planted 125 tiny Christmas trees: 100 Douglas fir and 25 Scotch pine.

Right now, they don't look like much. They're just little trees scattered across a small area, but I can't help imagining what that grove will look like five years from now. I picture our kids and grandkids wandering through the evergreens, searching for just the right Christmas tree to cut and take home.

There's something special about planting something today while imagining the memories that might grow alongside it.

Then came April and one of the biggest milestones we had been dreaming about since this entire adventure began.

We planted our first grapevines!

Fifty Cabernet Franc.
Fifty Frontenac.
One hundred Vidal Blanc.

Two hundred vines.

And holy moly, was that a project!

There was sweat. There were blisters. There were aching muscles. There may have been a few moments when we questioned our sanity, particularly while working on that steep hill.

But then we could finally stand back and look at them.

Our first vines.

Rows of tiny grapevines growing from the Tennessee soil we had dreamed about for so long.

It was one of those moments when something that had lived in our imaginations for years suddenly became real.

Since then, the trellis system has been taking shape, the vines have continued to grow, and so far, they're doing beautifully. If all goes according to plan, another 150 vines will join them next spring: fifty Lemberger, fifty Merlot, and another fifty Vidal Blanc.

It's funny to think about how long we've called this place Poor Valley Creek Vineyard.

We gave it that name before there was a single grapevine growing here. It was a name for what we believed this place could become.

This year, we put the first 200 vines into the ground.

And Poor Valley Creek Vineyard became a vineyard.

The Great Garden Experiment

Dave created a garden for me.

Not a cute little garden.

A 100-by-37-foot garden, because apparently neither one of us truly understands moderation. LOL!

I planted arugula, spinach, kale, broccoli, cabbage, beets, radishes, onions, snap peas, green beans, carrots, peppers, tomatoes, cucumbers, potatoes, rhubarb, squash, zucchini, watermelon, cantaloupe, corn, okra, dill, cilantro, parsley, basil, rosemary, oregano, sage, pineapple sage, lavender, marigolds, wildflowers...

I'm probably forgetting something.

It was glorious!

And then late July and August happened.

I started a new job in January that has me traveling far more than I'd like, and eventually the weeds realized I wasn't home enough to defend my territory.

They won.

Still, beneath the jungle, that garden fed us abundantly. We canned garden-fresh salsa, pickles, pasta sauce, marinara, and pickled peppers and beets. We gave away more than forty gallons of tomatoes.

And perhaps just as importantly, we learned things.

The corn? Total fail.

The okra? It grew beautifully, but apparently okra waits for no woman...or man. By the time we got to much of it, I'm fairly certain it could have been used as construction material.

That said, I have some other brilliant ideas for okra that do not involve eating it.

More to come on that. LOL!

The yellow squash? Mental note: DO NOT PLANT YELLOW SQUASH. Butternut squash is so much tastier, and around here, far less likely to go to waste.

Broccoli and I need some couples counseling.

But the tomatoes and cucumbers? We had them growing out of our ears.

And then there were the MARIGOLDS!

I grew them from seed, and they turned into the most enormous, gorgeous marigolds I have ever seen. As I write this in October, they're still blooming. And the giant mound of flowers you're seeing in the photo?

That's ONE plant!

Needless to say, I've saved plenty of seeds. Next year, there will be marigolds. Lots and lots of marigolds.

We also experimented with planting sunflowers and pumpkins in the "back field."

That experiment mostly resulted in a spectacular crop of ragweed.

However, we DID manage to grow a few sunflowers and pumpkins, and more importantly, we learned what we'll do differently next year.

I'm beginning to understand that gardening and farming aren't really about getting everything right the first time.

You plant. You tend. You watch. You learn.

Some things thrive beyond anything you expected.

Some things become construction materials.

Some things become ragweed.

And then you save the seeds from what worked and try again next year.

I am discovering that farming involves growing an impressive amount of humility right alongside the vegetables.

Growing Wherever I Can

My collection of plants has continued to multiply!

Dave recently bought and assembled a small starter greenhouse for me.

His reasoning was simple: if he didn't, the inside of our house was going to look like Jumanji this winter.

Fair point.

Now we're racing the first frost to get it completely finished, and I am ridiculously excited about it! I'm already imagining trays of seedlings getting their start in there next spring, plants tucked safely inside through the colder months, and, inevitably, me figuring out exactly how many plants I can cram into one little greenhouse before I need a bigger one.

The landscaping around the house has been growing right along with everything else. The patio block Dave put in is now surrounded by more and more color: azaleas, lilacs, butterfly bushes, hibiscus, roses, hydrangeas, elephant ears, Brazilian jasmine, and several other varieties I've tucked into the landscape along the way.

Carolina Creeper is making its way up the pergola, and if all goes well, next spring it should reward us with beautiful yellow blooms cascading overhead.

I love watching these once-empty spaces soften around us.

A bare patch gets a flower bed. An empty corner gets a plant. A pergola begins disappearing beneath a climbing vine. What once looked newly built is slowly beginning to look like it belongs here.

And perhaps that's my favorite part.

We're not simply landscaping around a house anymore.

We're growing a home.

Making Hay While the Sun Shines

Dave has accumulated quite the collection of farm equipment, most of it bought used through Facebook Marketplace. Thankfully, he can fix just about anything, so something being old, broken, or in need of a little TLC rarely seems to deter him. In fact, I sometimes think he considers that part of the appeal.

This summer, we made our first hay with our own new-to-us haybine, rake, and baler.

There's something incredibly satisfying about watching a field you've looked at all year suddenly become food that will carry your animals through the months ahead. Cutting it, letting it dry, raking it into windrows, and finally watching those first bales come out of the baler made this whole farming adventure feel a little more real.

And then came The Day of the 460 Bales.

Dave and I picked up and stacked 460 bales of hay in the hay mow.

In. One. Day.

By the end, our clothes were soaked through, every muscle in our bodies was screaming, and I could barely lift my feet high enough to walk. We were absolutely spent.

But then we stood there looking at that hay mow, stacked nearly to the rafters with something our own land had grown and our own hands had put away for winter.

What a feeling.

We did that!

Of course, sometime during bale number 437, I may have questioned whether feeling accomplished was really worth having functioning arms and legs.

But by the next morning?

Okay...maybe the morning after that...

It absolutely was.

And Then There Were Animals…

Our farm family grew quite a bit this year.

We rescued two little calico kittens whom we believed were sisters, so naturally I named them Thelma and Louise. They quickly settled into life here and became the perfect barn cats: sweet, friendly, curious, and always somewhere nearby keeping an eye on whatever we were doing.

Eventually, both girls had litters of their own.

Sadly, farm life also brought one of its hardest lessons when we recently lost Louise in a terrible accident. I cried my heart out that night. She had become part of this place and part of us, and her absence was immediately felt.

But what happened afterward was something beautiful.

Thelma simply stepped in.

She began caring for Louise's two remaining kittens, Cali-girl and Tom, right alongside her own. Her kittens, Cheddar, Shadow, and Dobby, accepted them as family too. There was no distinction between hers and Louise's. They were simply one little barn family.

And somehow, we now have six cats roaming the Poor Valley Creek barnyard.

CC (aka Chubby Cheeks), our sweet n' grumpy old pig, is still with us too. She's around sixteen years old now and has certainly earned the right to spend her golden years lying around. At her age, we consider every year with her a gift, even when she's being particularly opinionated about it.

Zeus, our seven-year-old Vizsla, remains thoroughly spoiled and sees absolutely no reason whatsoever for that arrangement to change. As far as Zeus is concerned, Poor Valley Creek exists largely for his personal enjoyment, and we're here to facilitate it.

Then came chickens!

We raised twelve baby chicks, six Wyandotte and six Black Sex Links, and managed to finish Cluck Cottage just in time for them to move out of their brooder and into their new home.

They've recently started laying eggs, and I don't care how old you are, there is something ridiculously exciting about walking out to the barnyard and discovering breakfast waiting for you in a nesting box.

It's such a simple thing, but those first eggs felt like another little milestone.

More and more, this place isn't just becoming a farm because of what we're building or planting.

It's becoming a farm because of all the life now calling it home.

A Dream With Four Hooves

At the end of June, my sister Susan gifted us two of her horses, and one of my oldest dreams came true!

Welcome to Poor Valley Creek, Legacy Flaming Star, “Janie”, a fourteen-year-old pure Arabian mare, and her half-sister Legacy Red Corvette, “Red”, who turned twelve this September.

I have dreamed of having horses for as long as I can remember.

Not just riding them or visiting them somewhere else.

Having horses of my own.

And now I walk outside, and there they are!!!

Here.

Ours.

Even after a few months, there are moments when that still doesn’t quite feel real.

We are learning one another. Learning trust. Learning routines. Learning how to communicate. I’m discovering their individual personalities and quirks, what makes them comfortable, what makes them unsure, and all the little ways they communicate if I’m quiet enough to pay attention.

And every single day, they bring me joy.

Perhaps one of the sweetest moments of all was watching our first grandson, Beau, have his very first horseback ride. There was something almost surreal about watching another generation experience horses here on the farm when, for so many years, simply having them was only a distant dream of my own.

There are moments when a dream comes true quietly.

No fireworks.

No grand announcement.

You simply look around and realize:

I’m standing inside something I once only imagined.

Meanwhile, Dave Got a New Hip…

At the end of June, Dave decided to squeeze a total hip replacement into the schedule, because farm projects, a vineyard, a giant garden, new chickens, hay season, and two newly arrived horses weren’t quite enough excitement for one summer.

Normal people would consider major surgery an appropriate time to rest. Not Dave.

I was thankful he finally got it done. I knew his hip had been bothering him for quite some time, and looking back at everything he’s accomplished before having it replaced makes me appreciate his determination even more. He had been fencing, building, planting, repairing equipment, working on the barn and winery, and climbing up and down this Tennessee terrain on a hip that was ready for retirement, even if he wasn’t.

Thankfully, the surgery went incredibly well, and his recovery was remarkable. Before long, he was itching to get back outside and back to work.

Of course, there were the doctor’s orders about what he should and shouldn’t be doing while he healed. Dave’s solution? His new Kubota tractor became his “wheelchair.” If he wasn’t technically walking everywhere, surely that counted as resting…right?

Slowing him down is very difficult. Stopping him may actually be impossible.

It became one more example of something I’ve learned very clearly since we purchased this property: Dave does not have an off switch.

Fortunately, the new hip seems to have given him an upgraded part for all the adventures and projects still ahead of us.

And knowing Dave, he’s got a list.

The One-Man Crew

I need to stop here for a moment and give credit where an enormous amount of credit is due. Throughout this post, I keep saying "we," because Poor Valley Creek is our dream and our life together. But if I'm being accurate about who has physically accomplished the majority of what you see here, that credit belongs to Dave.

Since retiring, he has essentially become a one-man construction crew, farmer, mechanic, carpenter, electrician, equipment repairman, fence builder, landscaper, vineyard hand, barn renovator, and whatever-the-heck-else-needs-done guy.

The man is a BEAST! A true legend.

While I work full-time and travel for my job, helping with projects whenever I can, Dave is here day after day turning our endless list of ideas into actual, tangible things. My job is an important part of this equation too, my income along with Dave’s retirement pension, helps fund this crazy dream of ours. In many ways, we've simply divided the labor of building Poor Valley Creek differently. I help provide the fuel. Dave takes that fuel and builds things with it. And goodness, can this man build.

He can look at something broken and figure out how to fix it. He buys used equipment because he knows he can repair it. While I'm still thinking and dreaming about something, he's halfway finished building it.

The barn doors. The run-ins. The fencing. The corral. The storage loft. The bridge and culverts. The garage. The winery walls and ceiling. The plumbing. The landscaping. The patios. The firepit area. The swings. The hunting stand. The vineyard infrastructure. The farm equipment. Project after project after project.

There are times I come home from traveling and discover something else has been built, repaired, cleared, moved, or transformed while I was gone. I honestly don’t know how he does it!

I have never known anyone who works harder than Dave. Nobody!

He has an incredible ability to simply figure things out and get them done. Much of what Poor Valley Creek has become in this first year exists because of his hands, his sweat, his ingenuity, his stubborn determination, and probably a few choice words uttered when machinery refused to cooperate.

So when I write "we built," "we added," or "we finished" throughout this story, I want the record to show: there is one very hardworking man behind an awful lot of that we. And I see him. I'm so proud of him. And I'm incredibly grateful for him and this dream we chose to build together.

Building the Farm Around Us

So much of this year has been spent creating the bones of the farm, not just making things functional, but slowly shaping this place into the life we imagine living here someday.

Pastures were fenced for the horses. Barn doors were repaired. Dave added a storage loft and stairs inside the barn, ran electricity and passed inspection, added another run-in so there is now shelter on both sides, and installed a corral.

Most recently, he has been pouring a concrete floor inside the barn so we can finally start organizing his workshop and my tack and feed room.

We added culverts and a bridge along the drive to the barn, which means we no longer have to drive through the creek to get there.

Dave also built another garage for the car, four-wheelers, and extra storage. Someday, when the winery is up and running, we envision that same building becoming a stage for live music.

Because around here, almost everything we build seems to have a future dream tucked inside it.

Our little winery building might be the best example of that.

What began as a metal building beside the house is slowly becoming a space where we can actually imagine welcoming people. We've insulated it, added pine tongue-and-groove to the walls, created a wonderfully imperfect ceiling from repurposed tin, painted the floors, installed lighting and a ceiling fan, added mini-splits for heating and cooling, and brought in running water. Now Dave is working on installing a woodstove.

With every new piece, it becomes a little easier to see what isn't quite here yet: people gathered together, glasses in hand, music playing, conversation and laughter drifting outside, with Poor Valley Creek flowing nearby.

Not yet. But someday. And someday doesn't feel nearly as far away as it used to.

At the same time, we've been creating places that don't necessarily have a job at all. Places simply to be.

Dave laid patio block and fixed up a hot tub for us, which has become one of our favorite places to unwind beneath the stars and the Tennessee sky.

Solar lights now glow along Poor Valley Creek and the walking path. We also added another seating area around a fire pit, and he even hung not one, but two swings for me.

And, because leisure looks a little different to Dave, he is building himself an enclosed hunting stand that is basically the Ritz-Carlton of tree stands.

Apparently, we both have our priorities.

When I look around now, I realize we're not just building barns, bridges, patios, or a winery. We're creating places to work and places to rest. Places for animals to shelter and people to gather. Places for music, fires, wine, laughter, quiet mornings, and star-filled nights.

We're building the infrastructure for the farm we need today while quietly making room for the Poor Valley Creek we hope to share tomorrow.

And One More…

Just when it seemed Poor Valley Creek couldn’t possibly take on another creature this year, we brought Diesel home from a farm in Bristol, Virginia. Diesel is an Anatolian Shepherd/Maremma Sheepdog mix who will eventually become our outdoor livestock guardian here on the farm.

He is going to be HUGE!

Right now though, he’s still very much a puppy: Sweet, curious, playful, and figuring out his place in this ever-growing menagerie we’ve created.

We fell in love with him almost immediately, and thankfully, he and Zeus have been getting along just fine. Zeus is still the spoiled veteran around here, while Diesel is the rapidly growing new recruit, learning how things work.

Although if early indications mean anything, I have a sneaking suspicion Diesel is going to be a Daddy’s boy.

Eventually, his job will be an important one: watching over the farm and the animals that call it home. For now, we’ll let him enjoy being a puppy while he grows into very large paws.

And apparently, we’re going to need him.

Because goats will likely be the next four-legged additions to our family.

Because clearly, what this farm needs is more chaos!

This Is It

Somehow, all of this doesn't even come close to capturing the whole year.

I started a new job in January. John and Jules got engaged. Anna and Brian got engaged. We've welcomed so many family and friends, hosted visitors, gathered around tables, sat beside fires, soaked in the hot tub beneath the stars, walked along the creek, watched Beau grow, worked until our bodies hurt, laughed at ourselves, mourned losses, celebrated new beginnings, and continued discovering what it means to call this place home.

And there is still so much left undone.

There are unfinished projects.

There are weeds.

There are things we planted that didn't grow, and things we never planned for that flourished.

There are tools lying around, fences to finish, trellises to build, a greenhouse to complete, a winery still waiting to become what we envision, and approximately a thousand ideas bouncing around in our heads at any given moment.

But perhaps that is one of the greatest lessons this land keeps teaching us:

We don't have to finish the dream to live inside it.

Poor Valley Creek Vineyard isn't waiting somewhere in the future for us to finally "arrive."

This is it.

It's the sore muscles and dirty boots.

The baby grapevines growing on the hill.

The failed corn and construction-grade okra.

The horses calling from the pasture.

The first eggs gathered from Cluck Cottage.

The jars of salsa, pickles, and sauce lined up on the shelves.

The ridiculous marigolds that apparently didn't get the memo that summer was over.

The kittens tumbling around the barn.

The creek glowing beneath solar lights as evening settles in.

It's family and friends filling this place with laughter and leaving behind memories long after they've gone home.

It's watching our grandson experience things here for the first time.

It's Dave and me finally sitting down at the end of another long day, exhausted, looking around at everything that has changed...

and somehow ending up in a conversation about what we're going to build next.

For so many years, we were working toward someday.

Someday we'd live here.

Someday we'd plant the vineyard.

Someday we'd have horses in the pasture.

Someday this dream would become our life.

Well...

This is someday.

Not when every fence is finished.

Not when the winery opens.

Not when the vineyard produces its first bottle.

Not when every project is crossed off the list, because let's be honest, that is never going to happen around here.

Now.

This messy, beautiful, exhausting, abundant, unfinished life we're living right now.

When we began this journey, we thought we were creating Poor Valley Creek Vineyard.

I'm beginning to think Poor Valley Creek Vineyard has been creating us, too.

So we'll keep planting.

Keep building.

Keep learning.

Keep welcoming.

Keep dreaming.

And most of all, keep listening to this beautiful piece of Tennessee earth as it shows us, little by little, what it wants to become.

Let the land lead.