Growing up on a Christmas tree farm wasn’t just a childhood — it was a way of life. It taught me everything I know about hard work, resilience, and heart. Our farm wasn’t just a place where trees grew. It was where I found my identity, where I built grit, and where the wild, entrepreneurial spark inside me was lit long before I even knew the word for it.

Life on the farm was never quiet, especially not around the holidays. There was always something that needed doing — trees to be trimmed, boughs to be bundled, wreaths to be made. While other kids were playing video games or sleeping in on weekends, I was learning to sweep out barns, load trucks, and ring up customers with a smile. And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Lessons in the Dirt

Some of the most valuable lessons I ever learned came while standing ankle-deep in mud or brushing pine needles out of my hair. No one sugarcoated anything on the farm. If something broke, you fixed it. If it was cold, you bundled up and kept going. If someone needed help, you showed up. That kind of upbringing stays with you — it becomes part of how you carry yourself in the world.

Even as a little girl, I felt the pulse of the hustle. I watched my family work tirelessly year after year, often behind the scenes, long after the customers had left. I saw how much love they poured into every tree, every handmade bow, every warm greeting to someone walking through the barn doors. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was honest. That kind of honesty shaped me.

Finding My Own Drive

As I got older, I realized I had that same fire — that wild heart that didn’t want to just sit still. I started my first boutique in my early twenties, not because I had it all figured out, but because I couldn’t ignore the itch to build something of my own. That hustle I’d learned on the farm gave me the confidence to try, to take risks, and to keep going even when it got hard.

I didn’t have a business degree. I didn’t come from money. But I had a work ethic that was forged in the fields, and that kind of foundation can carry you farther than most people realize. I worked long hours, wore every hat in the business, and made more than a few mistakes. But every time I stumbled, I got back up — because that’s what you do when you’ve been raised to figure things out.

The Heart Behind the Hustle

What people don’t always understand about hustle is that it’s not just about working nonstop. For me, it’s always been driven by heart. The farm taught me that it’s not just about profit — it’s about people. It’s about service. It’s about creating something meaningful and making sure everyone who walks through your door feels seen and valued.

Whether I was running a boutique, helping a family find their forever home, or building up a seasonal shop from the ground up, I carried that same mindset. Work hard. Be kind. Be real. Show up — even when it’s tough. Especially when it’s tough.

That approach helped me survive not just the ups and downs of business, but also the storms of life. Divorce, betrayal, setbacks — they hit hard, but they didn’t knock me out. I always had that inner compass that came from my roots: keep going, even if you have to rebuild from scratch.

Returning to the Farm

In some ways, life brought me full circle. After years of starting and growing different businesses, I found myself back on the land that raised me. The tree farm became more than just a family tradition — it became my anchor, my safe space, and the heart of everything I still wanted to create.

Now, when I walk through the barn during the holiday season, I’m flooded with memories — not just of my childhood, but of everything I’ve fought for and held onto. There’s a certain kind of pride that comes from knowing you’ve carried your roots with you through every phase of life, and that you’re still standing — still growing.

A Hustler’s Spirit, A Farmer’s Heart

I’ll always be the girl who gets her hands dirty. I’ll always be the woman who refuses to quit. And I’ll always have that wild, scrappy spirit that was born between rows of evergreens and molded by family, community, and old-fashioned hard work.

There’s something special about growing up in a place that demands your full attention — that shows you early on that nothing worth having comes easy. It makes you tough, yes, but it also makes you generous. You learn to work for what you want, and then you learn to give back. That’s the rhythm of the farm, and it’s the rhythm I’ve taken with me in everything I do.

So if you ever wonder where my drive comes from, just picture a girl in muddy boots, hauling trees, brushing hay off her jeans, dreaming of a life that looked a little different but still held onto the same core values. That girl became a woman who never forgot her rural roots — and who still lives and works with a wild heart.