That’s me. I’m a 30-something who was born and raised in beautiful Southern Indiana. I love bright colors, good beer, glittery nail polish, funky eyeglasses, and lighthouses. I’m tall. Like, people constantly comment on how tall I am kind of tall. Sometimes my hair is a crazy color. And I pretty much always have dirt under my fingernails.
That’s my husband. He’s a Canadian expat who brews really good beer, takes really good pictures, leaves me love notes, and doesn’t bat an eyelash when I suggest we do things like make our own maple syrup or get dairy goats. No, he doesn’t say “eh”. And yes, he has an amazing tattoo on his arm. It’s of me. On a tree swing.
AKA: Baby J, JuneBug, Baby Girl, Juni. She’s the newest addition to the homestead, and we’re absolutely head-over-heels in love with her. We’re so excited for our daughter to grow up in this beautiful place we call home.
AKA: Puppyface, Puppy, PF, Fluffs. That’s our rescue dog. She’s a terrier mutt who hates strangers, but loves hiking, sleeping on the couch, roasted chicken, swimming in the lake, and whenever anyone scratches under her collar.
AKA: Kittyface, Kitty, Pretty Kitty, Fuzzy. That’s our rescue cat. She’s our fuzzy, little mouser extraordinaire! When she isn’t chasing away vermin from the house, she’s sleeping on the back of the couch, playing with rubber bands, or climbing up window screens.
The Broken Plow
AKA: The Plow. That’s where we live. It’s a small piece of rolling hills in Southern Indiana that’s been in my family for longer than I’ve been around. In a previous life, it was both a potato farm and a pig farm. And then it was abandoned for decades. When my parents started hacking into the briars after they bought it, they found a broken, rusted plow in the woods leftover from the previous owners. And the name was born. We bought the property from my parents in 2012. The Plow has a house (our house), a barn, a lake, a beautiful grove of sugar maples, a big ole garden, and tons of potential.