There’s something about opening week that always feels a little uncertain. Like standing at the edge of something you’ve built… and hoping people show up for it. And this year—they did. Spring has turned to summer here on the farm, but I want to start at the beginning — opening weekend, when everything felt possible and a little uncertain all at once."
The weather was beautiful—the kind that makes you slow down without even realizing it. People wandered in, wine slushies in hand, not quite sure what they were walking into……and then something shifted. They stayed longer. They lingered. They connected. And that’s when it hit me—this place isn’t really about butterflies. It’s about connection.
This weekend, I watched a musician—the Free Range Minstrel—drop down to one knee, harmonica in hand, playing soft, wandering notes like he had nowhere else to be. Not for a crowd. Not for applause. Just so a two-year-old could dance. And that little boy did—tiny feet bouncing, completely locked into the music like it was the most important thing in the world. No phones. No distractions. Just a moment. That’s connection.
And then, like she always does… FairyTaylor fluttered in. Not walked. Not arrived. Fluttered. The same way she did the first time I ever met her—like she had just crossed over from some other world and decided to stay a while. A little sparkle. A little mystery. A little “you can’t quite explain it but you’re glad it’s here.” And suddenly, the farm felt even more magical… just because she was part of it. That’s connection too.
And then there are the people who don’t just visit… They build. Someone with a vision—and the kind of hands that know how to turn nothing into something—brought my wedding arch idea to life. Not just functional. Not just “that’ll do.” But something beautiful. Something that feels like it belongs here. Like it was always meant to be part of this place. That’s connection.
But what most people don’t see… happens after the gates close. The late nights. The muddy shoes. The “let’s just figure it out” conversations. And a team that is—if I’m being honest—a little hungry. Hungry to build something. Hungry to be part of something. Hungry to make this work. They stay late. They laugh. They problem-solve. They form friendships in the middle of it all. Somewhere between exhaustion and excitement… they connect with each other. And that’s how this place is really being built. Not just with ideas. But with people who care enough to stay.
Now, don’t get me wrong… It’s not all soft music and fairy dust. The butterflies were a little too cold this week, so we cranked the heater up and turned the flight house into what can only be described as a full-blown tropical situation. Warm air. Humidity. A little “are we in Georgia or the rainforest?” energy. The butterflies loved it. The rest of us… adjusted.
And then we discovered a few tiny, ambitious jumping spiders had moved in. Apparently, they also appreciate a good butterfly farm. We’ve decided they’re just… overenthusiastic new residents with questionable dining preferences. We’re working on setting some boundaries.
Even in the chaos, though… There’s still connection. Between us and the land. Between what works and what doesn’t. Between trying something new… and hoping it sticks.
The farm is waking up now. Plants are pushing through the soil like little surprises we forgot we planted (because we absolutely did). We’ve cleared an entire hillside to make room for a monarch habitat—soon it’ll be filled with milkweed… a space created for something bigger than us. Fennel, dill, and parsley are stretching toward the sun, getting ready to host the next generation of swallowtails. And just this week, we spotted a few butterflies emerging outside for the first time this season. A quiet little reminder… That something is always unfolding here.
🦋 Farm Confession
We still don’t have a map of what we planted where. So every spring, we walk around like: “Oh look! A surprise plant!” “Did we do this?” “Was this intentional or… nature’s decision?” At this point, the farm is just as much in charge as we are.
If you’re reading this, you’re part of it now too. Not just someone passing through… but someone connected to this place, in your own small way. And around here, that actually means something.
With fluttering wings,
The Butterfly Boss 🦋