A QUIET SHIFT
July in the field
It’s late July. Things are blooming with wild abandon.Others are winding down. Some are just getting started, roots stretching deeper, preparing for a second flush of green as the weather cools. It’s a familiar rhythm in our 4th year in the field. But the season is changing and so are we.
That might be a strange way to introduce Quinnfield…but it’s not really a usual kind of farm.
An unusual beginning
The short version?Our lives flipped upside down. We lived in a van. Slept on a basement floor. Found warmth in space heaters. Showered in a shop sink when the world shut down. Packed up everything we owned, sold the rest, and drove 1,000 miles south to start a new life. We were on this journey come hell or high water. Sacrifices were made. And somehow in the chaos of it all, we landed here, on the very land we now call home. And I don’t really believe it all happened by chance.
28 acres of forested mountainside with tall evergreens framing open pasture and a spring-fed creek winding through the trees. It felt like magic then. It still does now.
the first garden
Our goal has always been to plant roots in new soil, at a slower pace. (We’re still working on the slower part.)
That was meant to be figurative of course. But not long after landing here, we decided that hauling off 5 yards of rock mulch by hand during our first Tennessee summer was a good idea. Balmy. We stripped our overgrown foundation garden back to dirt.
The soil here is red clay, unfamiliar territory. So I drove down to a local nursery for advice. One misunderstanding (mine, not theirs) and 5 yards of composted cow manure was dumped in front of our garage. At the time, we didn’t even have a couch, let alone a wheelbarrow. I moved the whole pile with a hand truck and 20 gallon totes and replanted the foundation garden from bulb, bare root and seed.
TOMATO SUMMER
A neighbor gifted us a tomato plant. I knew houseplants well, but I was still learning when it came to outdoor. I moved it from the kitchen window to the porch one day and it sizzled up in the sun. The next time I saw him, he said:
“You never did anything with that tomato plant did you?”
I didn’t have the heart to tell him.
Later that year, we tilled up the field and started a kitchen garden. Wouldn’t you know, that season brought an abundance of tomatoes. I would send Bill to work with tomato goodie bags. It was a real tomato summer.
Enter: Bandit
Somewhere in the middle of it all, Bandit arrived. Full of curiosity and spunk from day one. The heart of the field and the inspiration behind our cowboy coyote. She came from a coworker of Bill’s and had spent the first 8 weeks of her life living under a garden cart. We learned that summer just how fitting her name is and how much she likes zucchini.
The vegetables led to flowers. The flowers led to building our tiny greenhouse. And eventually, we added flower rows to the field.
what comes next
Next year, we begin a new chapter in the field.We’re embracing less and more. One flower. One focus. Not for scale. Not for trend. But for depth, beauty and for the joy of attention. There is something about committing to a single form of beauty. It asks you to notice more. To learn the shape of things. To trust time.
That’s what I’m most looking forward to, the slow learning.
I’ll share more as the rows are cleared, the trays are prepped and the first seed is placed. For now, we’re somewhere in-between, taking time with what is, while preparing for what will be.
Oh, and the name?
Well, we’re the Quinns. And this is our field. Quinnfield. Wild, isn’t it?
Till next time,
- C