There are currently fifty-four rose bushes growing at Matlock Farms, representing twenty-one different varieties. Most are David Austin roses. That sounds impressive until you realize what a rose actually is. A rose is not a permanent thing. It is an agreement. You spend months tending a plant that offers only brief moments of perfection. You prune. You fertilize. You water. You watch for disease. You protect new growth. Then one morning, almost without warning, a bloom opens

Bandit died on his thirteenth birthday. Even writing that sentence feels unreal. Like something that should belong to someone else’s story, not ours. For thirteen years, he slept between us almost every night. A small, stubborn constant woven so deeply into the rhythm of life that I never really considered what the bed — or the house — would feel like without him in it. Now there is an empty space between us. And somehow that empty space feels much larger than a little dog. T

I've been sitting with this post for a few hours, trying to figure out how to say it. We'd already lost Cacciatore the day before. We weren't ready for what came next. There's no good way. So here it is: we lost most of our flock this morning. My beautiful Parmesan. Marsala. Blanche. And Blanche Two — because when one Blanche clearly wasn't enough, we named the second one with all the creative energy we had left and zero regret about it. Gone. All of them. We suspect owls. We

At Kimperfect Gardens, even the tools know who’s in charge. Personalizing my garden tools wasn’t just practical—it was necessary. No more mi

I don’t always make purses. But when I do, they whisper French poetry and carry secrets. A quiet Sunday, a favorite fabric, and the simple j

Lily has been chewing my fingers since she was three weeks old. What started as something small and adorable turned into a long-term arrange

Some projects start with a plan. This one started with a guitar in a corner and nowhere good to put it. Mark has collected guitars the way some people collect stories — each one played, loved, tuned, untuned, and picked up again over the years. Acoustic, electric, resonator. Each with its own voice. Each deserving better than a case shoved in a closet. So we built a wall for them. Not a store-bought rack. Not something flashy. Something right. I designed custom guitar hangers

We didn’t get to visit for Christmas this year. Life, schedules, and miles had other ideas. But even when we can’t be together, some hearts still end up on the worktable. Hazel and Maggie—our fur grandbabies—were very much on my mind this season. Two little Morkies who manage to take up an outsized amount of space in our thoughts, even from afar. So when the laser was warmed up and the shop was quiet, I made something small just for them. Engraved wooden coasters. Simple. Per

The Winter Issue didn’t start with a plan. It started with Baby Elvis. While sitting with cows during Oreo's labor, I was able to capture a few photos — nothing formal, just the kind of winter moments that feel worth saving. The light was good. The air was sharp. Baby Elvis was unimpressed. Somewhere between those photos and the quiet that followed, the idea shifted. Winter has a way of doing that. It slows things down enough that you start noticing what’s left when the noise

If you’ve found your way here, you’ve probably already figured out that Matlock Farms isn’t about doing things quickly—or loudly. This place grew the same way most good things do: a little at a time, with a fair amount of learning along the way. There’s land that teaches patience. Animals with strong opinions. Seasons that decide the schedule whether we like it or not. The journal exists for the quieter parts of all that. This is where we’ll share what’s happening on the farm