My Journal

The growth may feel slow to me. In an era when immediate satisfaction is treated as automatic, that same pace may look quick to someone else. I know rebuilding a business while bootstrapping the whole way is not ideal. The grind is still worth it.

Memphis heat finally lets go. Nights drop. The soil is still warm. Pests slow down. And if you time it right, you can eat from the beds straight through Thanksgiving and into winter. On our little urban farm that second season feels like a gift—cooler work, sweeter greens, and one more chance to put food on the table with the kids before the year turns.

I have spent years growing food on whatever ground we could find—patio beds, borrowed lots, the corners of a life already full of children, homeschool lessons, and prayer. We made it work. We always do. But a family cannot build a community on a patio forever. This summer we found land for Wild Bloom’s urban farm. That sentence still steadies me when I say it out loud. The next sentence is the honest one: I still need help covering the purchase so this ground can become what

I’ll be donating seeds and growing containers to anyone who wants to stop by and pick them up for free. It’s an amazing way to get to know my neighbors and connect with anyone interested in growing food, flowers, or volunteering. This is possible because of the generous support I’ve received for the farm vision.

Every loaf, every jar of pickles, every bag of mix you take home from this porch is helping plant roots on Sewanee Road. This fall I’m opening the porch bakery again — not just to share the things I love baking for my family, but because every single dollar from these tables is going straight toward the land we just acquired on Sewanee Rd. That ground is the next chapter of Wild Bloom: the urban farm we’ve been dreaming, praying, and working toward for years. It’s the place w

I can finally say it with pride: I’ve acquired land and a home for the business. A little over an acre, right in the heart of Memphis. I