About Us

Living in Albuquerque, my wife, Erin, and I had dreams of moving back to South Carolina to be close to our families, the vibrant local food traditions, and to permanently plant our roots. At night after we put our toddler son to bed, we would take turns searching for farms online while the other would put Thomas back to bed and reassure him that he did not need any more water, he was no longer hungry and he could not possibly need to go potty again. Through Zillow, we fell in love with a hundred acre farm with a hundred year old farm house surrounded by enormous oak trees. We immediately called my dad and he agreed to look at it with us. We hopped a plane two weeks later to see it firsthand.
The farm was a hot, humid mess. We waded through 5 foot tall briers to find the pond that I knew was supposed to be behind the house. When we found it, it was not much more than a duckweed covered, mosquito breeding cesspool. Erin, my mom, and Erin’s grandfather stayed in the car as my dad and I explored what we could of the property. We soon discovered a second larger cesspool and five crumbling buildings that had been engulfed by trees and brush. The oak trees in front of the farmhouse were magnificent and the house had been partially renovated and seemed somewhat livable. We looked at a couple other farms, but we just kept coming back to this one. For me, it was the oak trees. It would take two or three generations for trees to grow that large and I am neither patient nor immortal. For Erin, it was the closeness to her family, the farmhouse and the acres of natural woods.