4th Quarter Farm Gallery

How an idea became a reality

In the quiet of winter, the idea came to create a cut flower farm for the purpose of brightening the days of seniors in assisted living.  It became a huge undertaking but it was very exciting to witness it take shape. A grass field evolved into gravel paths and raised beds with irrigation and weed cloth and netting to support long stems. The greenhouse heat went on and seeds sprouted.  Tiny green plants grew into astoundingly beautiful flowers in such abundance as to create complete bliss in that space. We picked. We conditioned. We arranged. We delivered. Lonely people got a surprise of color and fragrance and acknowledgement. And we shared happiness.

The inspiration

4th Quarter Farm was started as a memorial to my husband of 45 years, Lynn.  He was smart and funny and creative and adventurous. He lit up a room and he made things happen.  He loved me and I loved him back. He died of early onset Alzheimers’. I have a deep appreciation for all that caregivers do and for how seniors spend their time in assisted living.  I had to respond. The name, 4th Quarter Farm refers to my being in the 4th Quarter of my life now.  The quarter without Lynn but the time to do something for others.

The abundance of summer

Gardening, or farming on a bigger scale, is an act of faith and hope.

The pure joy of giving

My intent is not only to provide a lift to seniors and caregivers, but also the peace of the garden and the act of giving to those who volunteer.  Not to mention that I live in paradise.

Life on the farm

I live in paradise.  I am grateful for my life every single day.  The acreage is so beautiful, the vegetable and fruit garden and orchard so bountiful and of course the animals are such characters.  As I blog you will become acquainted with them. Miles, the basset/rotweillor mix, Mister Miles, we call him, because he is a cool character and oversees everything.  The bassets, Dixie and Boo, mother and daughter, are in on everything and always up for a tummy rub. Murphy, my grand dog, always has a stick or is bathing in the horses’ water trough.