I have always felt like sharing the stories from the farm and I often do weekly from my porch. Here are a collection of some of my best notes as well as an explanation of the metaphors I use and why.  

 

This work constitutes a map to my soul, and I am honored to share it with you. 

 

⭑✰✮༄➰;↯(∞⚘️∞+❀️=➰= ❀️ + ∞⚘️∞);➰༄✮✰⭑

 

 

 

Seeds of Transformation: A Living Scroll Archive

From the very beginning, I've believed in the transformative power of community—the kind that emerges when we openly share the beauty, struggles, and lessons of our lives. These emails began as private reflections, carefully shared with our closest circle, but now, they're open to everyone.

Within this archive is a living collection of insights, stories, and moments born from the soil and soul of Three Dudes Farm. Each email is a seed, planted in vulnerability and nurtured by connection, waiting to bloom in whoever reads them.

I'll continue to share new reflections as they grow, and if you'd like to receive these messages as they're sent, you can sign up to join our email community. Welcome—I'm glad you're here.

 

Seeds of Transformation: A Living Scroll Archive

Table of Contents

  • 🥀 Grief & Loss
  • 💪 Resilience & Perseverance
  • 🤝 Community & Connection
  •  ⚘  Healing & Mindfulness
  • ✨ Gratitude & Joy
  • 🌱 Growth & Transformation
  • ⏳ Time & Memory

🥀 Grief & Loss

🥀 January 5, 2025 – Life on a farm has a way of pressing pause on every plan. This week, we lost a horse, MJ—a presence so large that everything seems to shift in her absence. We'll be getting back to normal next week, but for now, there is a pause around here to reflect.

 

MJ’s Final Lesson
MJ came to us over a decade ago—a fiery racing quarter horse with million-dollar breeding. She had a powerful presence and a nurturing spirit that was easy to overlook if you didn’t know her. She was fierce when she needed to be—kicking, biting, holding her ground—but underneath, she was pure care. She raised every young animal on this farm, and they, in turn, reflect her essence.

 

In 2016, MJ taught me one of the most profound lessons of my life: the importance of putting in the work. She was pregnant that year, and it was my job to care for her every day—feeding her, giving her supplements, learning to test her milk when the time came. At first, she resisted every step of it. I had to earn her trust inch by inch. But when the night finally arrived, she walked into her stall, woke me up, and gave birth right next to me.

 

In that moment, I realized that trust is built through consistent, intentional work. It’s the same lesson I’ve applied to my relationships, my business, and my life: progress happens 1% at a time. Bit by bit, you build something meaningful. (As my friend Cat wisely put it, “progress is simple: you simply take 1% improvement each day. In a little over three months, you’re 100% from where you started.”) I’m honored to call her my friend, and her wisdom continues to shape my life in countless ways.

 

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The Circle of Loss and Life
When MJ gave birth, it felt like a moment of pure magic. The horses gathered around her in quiet celebration—a reflection of the life she was bringing into the world. But when we lost her this week, the barn felt so heavy. The circle was still there, but this time it was somber, almost sacred in its grief.

 

Losing MJ sucks. There’s no softer way to say it. These losses—and picking up the real-life pieces to handle the situation—shake you. Behind that lies a raw ache you don’t really know what to do with. Loss on the farm doesn’t just hurt—it hollows you out in a way you can’t prepare for. And yet, even in that hollow space, there lies this strange beauty.

 

Because loss has a way of making you stop, really stop, and feel how deeply connected everything is. I held onto Jolene, MJ’s first surrogate baby, and for a moment, it felt like I was still holding MJ. I realized then: she isn’t truly gone. The energy, the trust, and the love we poured into each other—it hasn’t disappeared. It’s alive in every horse she nurtured, in every lesson she taught me, and in the way her spirit still shapes this farm.

 

What MJ’s life—and her loss—has taught me is this: the work we put in matters. The trust we build, the love we give, and the energy we pour into something don’t just fade away. They move. They transform. They live on in the lives and moments we touch.

 

This is the heartbeat of Three Dudes Farm. We live through experiences that are raw, messy, and full of lessons you can’t learn any other way. But here’s the thing: we don’t keep those lessons to ourselves. We share them—all the vulnerability, all the heartbreak, all the beauty—because that’s what this farm is. It’s a place where we come together to grow, to connect, and to find meaning in the hardest, most beautiful moments life throws at us.

 

I love to hear from you. Whether it’s a story you’d like to share, a reflection on your own experiences, or simply something on your heart—we’re here for it. This farm has always been about connection, and your thoughts mean the world to us.

 

This isn’t just my journey. It’s ours. And I’m grateful every day that we get to walk it together.

💪 Resilience & Perseverance

💪 December 18, 2024 – I’m going to be blunt: our farm and what we support needs your help right now. That includes not just our flowers, but five abandoned puppies who were left with a subscriber nearby and have had to find a temporary home in our barn. The puppies are safe, but they’re hungry and they’ll need vet care. Honestly, five dogs is insanely expensive to care for—and every penny is coming out of the farm budget. Rescues are already stretched to the max during the holidays.

 

These dogs are very sweet, very affectionate, and well behaved. They sleep a lot; I assume they are going to be large dogs. They have not been vetted yet, though appear healthy (they came with some fleas and ticks).

 

If you’ve ever thought about subscribing to the farm, renewing, or even giving a gift subscription, now is the time. I know many of you are waiting to renew or sign up until after the holidays, and I totally get it. Please do not feel any pressure. Subscribers will not face the same rate hike for next year if you cannot support us right now. However, if you can afford it, the farm needs these funds now to get through the off-season, vet these dogs and prepare for what’s next.

 

If you’ve already stepped up to help, thank you from the bottom of my heart — and please share this with a friend who might love what we do. Thank you for helping us make it through this season, for being part of our farm family, and for keeping the flowers (and the puppies!) growing strong.

 

With gratitude,
Brett

 

💪 July 15, 2024 – Whew! Hurricane Beryl tried to test us. We had a fair amount of short-term damage (long flower stems that were almost ready to cut were broken), but our plants should be producing again quickly. I am incredibly proud of the work we have put in to build a strong garden, and it looks like we have no long-term impacts from the storm.

 

These past few weeks have been a whirlwind of change here on the farm. Each email I’ve written seems to become outdated the very next day—it’s the nature of farm life, always evolving and changing course. But through it all, you learn to persist. This season has tested me and the farm like never before.

 

There have been messy days, moments where I’ve stumbled, days we couldn’t overcome, and disappointments. Disappointments for me and for some of you. I’ve struggled with communication and getting a backend set up, and several subscribers have felt forgotten. Things I didn’t want to happen, but did. But through it all, I persist.

 

With over 30 inches of rain and unprecedented wind events, it's been a growing season unlike any other I have faced. But through it all, I persist.

 

Sure, adversity teaches us resilience. But more importantly, adversity is there to encourage us to learn and grow. To me, that’s why I persist.

 

I’m committed to improving every day, to asking the tough questions, and diving deeper into what can make me a better farmer and business leader. I appreciate the grace and understanding from so many of you, even as I stumble. We couldn’t make it through a few hurdles without it. I also deeply appreciate the criticism and having issues brought to light. I want to know everything that doesn’t work. Every setback is teaching me how to be stronger and smarter moving forward.

 

💪 November 19, 2024 – Many of you might remember the email I sent earlier this year about planting gem corn—a dazzling heirloom variety we were so excited to grow. Like so many things in farm life, the outcome didn’t go as planned. But what unfolded was an unforgettable lesson in resilience, hope, and the rewards of simply continuing forward.

 

We planted 750 gem corn seeds in April, and they grew beautifully at first. But as the ears began to form, pests moved in. By July, it was clear our crop was infested, and no amount of organic intervention could save it.

 

The loss was devastating—not just for the farm but for me personally. This wasn’t just any crop. This corn had been part of a story I shared with you, a symbol of promise and renewal. It was the harvest I was most looking forward to, and yet, there it was: ruined.

 

For July and August, Justin and I managed this farm entirely on our own. Every field, every bouquet, every delivery—just the two of us. Some tasks had to be set aside, including the dying cornfield.

 

By late August, it was an overgrown mess. Justin eventually mowed it down, returning the failed crop to the soil as mulch. It was disappointing, but we had to move forward.

 

And then, three weeks later, something remarkable happened. The ears of corn left behind had dropped kernels when mowed—and those kernels sprouted.

 

A new crop emerged, thriving in the cooler, low-pressure conditions of fall. What had seemed like a total loss became an unexpected gift.

 

This wasn’t the corn we planned for—but it was the corn we prepared for. Every decision we made this year—to nurture the soil, attract beneficial insects, and build a balanced ecosystem—created the conditions for this miracle to happen.

 

Looking back at this lesson from the farm, I believe it is quite possibly one of the greatest I have learned: We cannot control outcomes, but we can control our preparation, persistence, and trust in the process.

 

When you keep moving forward, when you stay true to your plans and goals despite setbacks, you create the conditions for success, even in ways you might not immediately see. That’s what this corn showed us: when you put in the work, you simply cannot lose.

 

Resilience isn’t just surviving—it’s thriving in spite of adversity. It’s knowing you can fail and yet still keep going. It’s about holding onto your vision, even when others don’t see it.

 

This year, many people have doubted us and our mission. But they didn’t know what we knew. They didn’t see the connections we’ve built, the plans we’ve laid, the lessons we’ve learned.

 

Like that cornfield, we have not let failures define us. Instead, we prepared for what could come next—and just kept moving forward, sometimes day by day.

 

This farm has taught me that setbacks and delays are inevitable, both in farming and in life. You can plan for perfection, but there’s always something unexpected waiting to test you: the bugs you can’t control, the weather you didn’t see coming, or the months you have to shoulder the weight of everything with no relief.

 

This entire season has been a testament to the power of resilience. I want to thank you, deeply, for being here. For learning with me. For growing with me.

 

Every lesson I’ve learned this year—every failure, every triumph—has been shaped by this community. Your support keeps this farm going, and your belief in what we’re doing gives me the strength to keep showing up, even on the hard days.

🤝 Community & Connection

🤝 November 5, 2024 – Today is a day when we often see division on full display, but my aim for this community is to be guided by something different. This journey began because I was tired of seeing people connect over shared divisions, tired of seeing lines drawn instead of hands extended. Here, in this space, we come together to lift up what we love and celebrate our shared sources of joy.

 

As the season changes and the election unfolds, I want to acknowledge that we’re all also moving into the busiest—and most reflective—time of the year. Today, and in the days ahead, I invite you to take a moment to pause and breathe. Know that life moves forward, and no matter the outcome, our roots remain.

 

I’ve been thinking for a bit about what I wanted to say today and it is this: We aren’t tested by what happens around us but by our resilience through it. Finding joy in the midst of the world’s noise, reaching out, and lifting each other up—that’s the heart of community. Once the dust settles, remember to check in on your people. No matter where they stand, this election may carry meaning for someone close to you. A kind word or a small gesture of care reminds us all that, at the end of the day, it’s connection that carries us through.

 

Thank you for being part of this community that celebrates joy and unity.

 

🤝 November 23, 2024 – Dear Flower Friend,

 

Justin and I are in the van today, delivering holiday greenery and bouquets to our subscribers after what has been a particularly challenging week. As I sit here, reflecting on the weight of the moments we’ve shared with members of our community in recent days, I’m struck by an overwhelming sense of gratitude. It’s humbling to realize how deeply these connections shape our work, and today, I feel compelled to share a story that has stayed with me—a story about love, resilience, and the power of showing up for one another.

 

Each month, we connect with more than 300 people on the road, and it’s in those small moments we have handing over a bouquet, exchanging a smile, or sharing a quick word that I’m reminded of why we do this work. Some of these moments have been with those in our community who are walking through incredibly difficult chapters in their lives. In those times, just showing up with flowers becomes more than a delivery—it’s a way of quietly being there, of letting someone know they’re seen and cared for.

 

The impact we make, the joy our flowers bring, and the kindness we try to exchange—it’s only possible because of you. Your support as a member, as a reader of my notes, or just as a champion of what we do really and truly matters. It allows us to show up, to bring beauty and connection into people’s lives, and to create these moments that mean so much.

 

This week, I’ve been thinking a lot about one of our subscribers, Mary. I remember when Mary signed up for our subscription. She didn’t like typing on phones, she said, so we had these wonderful voice-note conversations instead. Mary was a powerhouse in her own right—she owned a large floral import wholesale business in Houston for over 30 years. She knew this industry deeply, with all its joys and its challenges.

 

Subscribers like Mary hold a special place in my heart because people in our industry have a unique perspective—they understand how unpredictable this work can be, how hard it is, and how much heart it takes. They also have a choice: they can critique from the sidelines or choose to support, to lift us up with their belief.

 

Mary chose to support us. She believed in what we are building here, and she didn’t just say it once—she said it over and over again. She never missed an opportunity to tell us how much she believed in us, in our mission, and in what we are trying to do. Looking back, I know there were days when she made a very intentional effort to brighten my day.

 

This week, I learned that Mary passed away peacefully in her home, just a few days before her most recent delivery. Her daughter shared how much our flowers and visits meant to her. And now, all I can think about is Mary.

 

I think about the joy Mary gave me this year—the unwavering support, the kind words, the belief she showed in us even when her own journey was difficult. I think about her choice to be a light for others, even when her own light might have felt dim. And Mary made that choice—over and over again.

 

She is refining a lesson I’m learning more about all the time, something people who are a lot stronger than me are teaching me, and something I hope to carry forward even more so in Mary’s honor: Perspective is a choice. You can still choose showing up with faith, love, and hope, even when life feels heavy.

 

This reminder challenges me to lean deeper into the connections we’re building here, to see every moment as an opportunity to share joy, bring comfort, and reflect the love this community has shown us. It encourages me to allow the small moments in life to remind me why we keep showing up.

 

Even on the hardest days, joy can find its way in. A shared smile or a kind word, an unexpected connection, can remind us why we keep moving forward.

 

Thank you for being here, for believing in what we do, and for being the reason we push boundaries like this.

 

🤝 March 9, 2024 – Comraderie and Connection is on the Menu

 

Greetings!

 

I am beyond excited to announce our 2024 Summer Series of classes and workshops. At the very core of what Three Dudes Farm is about is connection. Connections where we can meet each other where we are able and forget about the rest.

 

Reflecting on the evolution of Three Dudes Farm, I’m reminded of the profound importance of friendship and genuine connections. Just as seeds planted in the earth grow into beautiful blooms, our friendships and connections nourish our souls and enrich our lives.

 

Two years ago, a dear friend named Stefanie shared the gift of growth with us during the holiday season. Her thoughtful gesture, comprising cuttings from her houseplants and packets of seeds from her cherished collection, planted the seeds of inspiration that would eventually blossom into our membership program. As I tended to those seeds and watched them flourish, I couldn’t help but feel the power of connection and the joy it brings.

 

At the heart of our journey are the friendships that sustain us and inspire us to reach new heights. My journey wouldn’t be possible without the unwavering support of two incredible friends, Sarah and Sharon. Sarah’s unwavering confidence in me and the farm has been a constant source of strength, while Sharon’s guidance and wisdom have guided me through countless challenges.

 

As we eagerly anticipate the start of the 2024 season and reflect on the journey that has brought us here, I’m filled with gratitude for the friendships that have shaped this farm and our community. Whether it’s through the seeds of connection planted by dear friends like Stefanie or the unwavering support of cherished companions like Sarah and Sharon, it’s clear that the bonds we nurture are at the heart of everything we do.

 

I’m thrilled to share that Sharon will be joining us for an extended visit at the farm in less than one month. Her presence brings a vibrant energy to the garden, renewing my spirit as I prepare for the season ahead. Sharon and I will cultivate our friendship and continue to inspire one another as we nurture the seeds of joy and connection that define our journey.

 

Thank you for being a part of this journey, for embracing the joy of cultivating meaningful relationships, and for sharing in the beauty of flowers and friendship with us. Together, may we continue to grow and bloom.

⚘ Healing & Mindfulness

⚘ August 11, 2024 – I’ll be honest—there was a time when being on the road filled me with dread. The monotony of driving gave my intrusive thoughts too much room to roam, and I found myself overwhelmed with emotions I couldn’t control.

 

I can still remember pulling over on the side of the road, trailer full of horses in tow, and calling my friend Ryan in tears, unable to stand the thought of continuing the journey alone. Even short trips became a source of anxiety; leaving the house felt like a monumental task. I was miserable, trapped in a cycle of depression and a need to control everything around me. I wanted to escape that space, to see things differently, to make life better, but I didn’t know how.

 

That’s when my friend Natalie stepped in. She’s the kind of friend who knows when to hold you close and when to give you a good kick in the butt. She’s someone I’ve looked at as more of a guardian angel than a friend. Natalie would often tell me, “You’ve got to stop future-tripping.”

 

So at first, I tried to distract myself—staying busy so the thoughts wouldn’t creep in. That’s how I started gardening. I overcommitted to the garden, thinking that if I kept my hands full, I wouldn’t have time for those intrusive thoughts. It was a band-aid solution, yet I was proud of myself for finding a way to cope.

 

But gardening turned out to be more than a distraction—it became a healing process. Working with the earth grounded me, brought me into the present, and opened my eyes to the beauty all around me. Suddenly, I found myself looking forward to each day, ready to tackle problems as they arose instead of dreading them.

 

And then, something incredible happened. As I started this journey and began connecting with all of you, the dread and anxiety I once felt on the road began to fade. Meeting you, hearing your stories, seeing your smiles when we deliver—these moments have become the highlights of my days.

 

You’ve turned what used to be a source of anxiety into something I genuinely look forward to. Now, instead of being overcome with intrusive thoughts, I'm filled with gratitude and excitement to see what each day on the road will bring. It's these connections that have transformed my outlook, making the road feel less like a burden and more like a path filled with purpose and joy.

 

Gardening has taught me to be here, in this moment. Customer service has taught me to be present with each of you. And you, our wonderful community, have taught me that these moments—however imperfect—are the ones that truly matter.

 

Perfection, I’m learning, is a fantasy. The real joy lies in embracing the here and now, finding beauty in the ordinary, and celebrating each other, together. This is why I’m here, working from before dawn to well after dusk—committed to a dream of bringing people together to celebrate life’s simple joys, its beauty, and its imperfections.

 

I’m honored to share this journey with you, and I can’t wait to see where it leads us next.

✨ Gratitude & Joy

✨ March 5, 2024 – As the whirlwind of preparations for the upcoming season sweeps us off our feet here at the farm, I wanted to take a moment to share a simple practice that's been keeping me anchored amidst the chaos: gratitude.

 

It's not always easy to maintain a sense of gratitude, especially when life feels like a runaway train without tracks. In the midst of the rush, stress can start to pile up, and it’s all too easy to slip into a negative mindset.

 

But yesterday, a conversation with my friend Ryan reminded me of the power of positive attitudes and taking things one step at a time. His perspective was like a light in the midst of the storm, guiding me back to a place of gratitude.

 

I realized that when we become too fixated on the end result, on expectations, or on some arbitrary measure of success, we set ourselves up for disappointment. So today, as I ventured into the garden fields and picked up a hose, I made a conscious effort to pause and express gratitude for each emerging seedling.

 

At first, it felt a bit strange to stop at every row and acknowledge the tiny shoots, but gradually, it felt like I was giving each one a warm hug. Whether it was a hug for the seeds, for myself, or for the universe, I couldn't quite tell. But one thing was certain—it brought me back to a place of positivity and reminded me of something so important:

 

Gratitude is the first step towards cultivating a positive mindset.

 

As the seedlings continue to emerge from our soil and we approach the opening day of the 2024 season, I'm overwhelmed with gratitude for the outpouring of love and support you've shown me and my family since we opened our farm for subscriptions last November. The anticipation of seeing the blooms in the field and sharing bundles of joy with our subscribers fills me with excitement beyond measure.

 

But it's the small steps along the way—the moments of connection, the shared experiences, and the daily reminders of your support—that truly make this journey magical.

 

So, as I wrap up this note, I want to thank each and every one of you for allowing me into your lives, for building this dream with me, and for brightening my days with your notes, messages, and replies. Your presence in this community fills me with immense gratitude, and I'm endlessly thankful for the connections we’re forging together.

 

✨ November 28, 2024 – As Thanksgiving comes to a close, I find myself reflecting on the incredible connections we’ve built this year. From the beauty we’ve shared through flowers to the moments of joy and comfort they’ve brought into people’s lives, I’m overwhelmed with gratitude for this community.

 

This farm wouldn’t be what it is without you—your belief in our mission, your support, and your willingness to grow alongside us. Thanksgiving is a time to pause and appreciate what matters most, and for me, it’s knowing that we’re creating something meaningful together. That gratitude is carrying me into the holiday season with a sense of purpose and excitement for what’s to come.

 

Next weekend, I’ll be decorating two homes in Tanglewood for the Kappa Pilgrimage Holiday Home Tour, the farewell tour of an event that has spanned more than 80 years. We are so grateful for the faith this legacy event, hosted by such a renowned and impactful organization, has placed in us and we are honored to contribute to a tradition that has shaped so many lives.

 

This project is monumental: more than 15,000 stems of florals from all around the world, 750 feet of handmade garlands, 200 peonies flown in from Chile, and massive bushels of magnolia harvested from our farm. Every stem has been selected with intention. This will be the largest installation I’ve ever done—and the largest in the history of the Kappa Pilgrimage.

 

We’re incredibly grateful for the faith the Houston Kappa Kappa Gamma chapter has placed in us. This opportunity not only allows us to showcase our artistry but also puts our farm and community on a bigger stage. It’s thrilling to create something so meaningful while supporting the important charities the pilgrimage benefits.

 

Instead of holding anything back, we poured every bit of the budget into creating something extraordinary. This project represents who we are—creative, ambitious, and deeply focused on bringing joy to others. We’re proud to be redefining florals in this way, challenging traditional industry norms, and focusing on what really matters: the joy flowers bring.

 

It’s not just about the flowers. It’s about connection. The holidays are a time of joy, but for many, they’re also a time of stress or reflection. That’s why this project means so much to me. It’s an opportunity to bring beauty, peace, and connection into people’s lives. Every garland, every arrangement, every room I design is built with this in mind—to create moments of wonder that stay with you long after you’ve left.

 

This project has also been a labor of love for the farm. The amaranth you’ll see in the homes was grown by us, alongside magnolia and snapdragons. It’s thrilling to combine the blooms we’ve nurtured here with the best the world has to offer, bridging the gap between our local roots and global artistry.

 

This installation isn’t just about decorating homes. It’s about showing the power of flowers to bring people together and redefining what floristry can be.

 

Thank you for being part of this journey, for believing in what we do, and for being the reason I push boundaries like this. Your support and enthusiasm have made projects like this possible, and I carry your encouragement with me into every big challenge we take on.

 

With gratitude,
Brett

🌱 Growth & Transformation

🌱 October 2024 – I am always speaking about joy—about nurturing it, about choosing it, about setting the intention to approach each day from a joyful perspective. But this journey towards joy hasn’t always been an easy one. In fact, it’s been a journey marked by trials and self-discovery—a journey that has led me to a profound realization about the nature of joy itself.

 

I’ve learned joy isn’t merely a destination to be reached; it’s a choice—a lens of gratitude and resilience through which to see the world, even in the face of adversity. For years, I believed that my joy was contingent upon outside factors—upon the approval of others, achieving certain goals, or the fulfillment of expectations. Last year, though, everything changed.

 

In July we bid farewell to the beloved matriarch of my family, my grandmother Muz—a woman whose presence illuminated every room she entered. Muz was more than just a grandmother to me; she was an embodiment of love, compassion, and boundless joy. Her cabin in Vallecito Lake, Colorado, was my childhood sanctuary—a place where I spent all of my summers immersed in her wisdom and warmth.

 

When I arrived in Colorado with my extended family to honor Muz’s life and legacy, I knew exactly where I was heading first: the bookshelves behind the stairs in the cabin… to Muz’s journals.

 

Every night I spent in the cabin, Muz and I would sit by the fire and watch the satellite TV playing black-and-white movies while she would tell me about the past. There were so many films we watched together, but a few turned into my all-time favorites, like Sabrina and Some Like It Hot. While we sat each night, Muz would write in her journal. As she chronicled our day, the firelight and lamp would make her glow like an angel. I remember desperately wanting to see what she was writing. I’d ask her all the time. But her answer was always the same: “Oh, Brettski, one day you’ll be able to read them all.”

 

Last summer in July, I finally had that day. I grabbed four or five years of books off the shelves and started to dive in. Reading her words felt like being wrapped in a warm blanket. Leafing through the pages, I was transported back in time, reliving memories etched in my mind. But then, I stumbled upon an entry that would change my perspective forever.

 

Muz was talking about a day that I left the cabin for the summer, and she closed the entry with the words “SUCH A JOY HE IS!”—the words leapt off the page and headed straight to my sense of self-worth.

 

And just like that, I realized: Joy is not something to be sought after; it is something to be cultivated from within.

 

I am the joy!

 

Last July, in a cabin in Colorado, I became a totally new man because I finally understood. In her journals, through her words, my grandmother had given me the most precious gift of a new perspective—a perspective that changes everything. When you CHOOSE joy, you absolutely cannot lose.

 

Arriving back home, I knew I needed to do something to commemorate this perspective. So, I got a tattoo. I had “such a joy he is,” in Muz’s handwriting, permanently placed on my arm as a reminder that the joy I so desperately seek is right here.

 

🌱 November 1, 2024 – This year has been full of lessons—and some harder than others. There have been setbacks—failures, weather challenges, and disappointments. It’s been messy, and honestly, not at all what I had planned. But when I step back, I realize that I wouldn’t change any part of it.

 

These lessons have been gifts. If we learn from them, they’re not mistakes; they’re growth. This farm journey is about learning and growing together, and it’s built on transparency, honesty, and connection—from you to me and me to you. It’s about taking risks, embracing failure, and knowing that, while life might be hard and messy, it’s still beautiful.

 

I wanted to share something personal that happened recently. Life on the farm has been overwhelming lately. The work, while exciting and beautiful, has piled up in ways that are mentally, physically, and emotionally exhausting at times.

 

Last week was especially tough. In my exhaustion, I forgot to lock up the geese for the night. When I woke up, I discovered that a predator had come onto the property and taken them.

 

The geese were part of our farm, part of this little world we’ve built here, and their loss sat heavily on me. They were my little buddies and they preferred me over anyone else.

 

I couldn’t shake the feeling of responsibility, and honestly, I felt too drained to face the day. Loss is something we face on the farm often, something I have learned so much from—something that has changed me and made me a better person.

 

On this day, though, I didn't want to “become a better person.” I didn't want to understand loss. I didn’t want to do much of anything—not even go to lunch with my family.

 

When we did finally go, I sat in the car for a few minutes before stepping inside, trying to pull myself together.

 

But the moment I walked into the restaurant, something happened that I wasn’t expecting. I ran into one of our subscribers—one of you.

 

Michele greeted me with such warmth and excitement, and for the first time that day, I felt a spark of joy. Her energy lifted me in a way that I truly needed, even though I hadn’t realized it at the time.

 

It was this small but profound reminder that the work we are doing on the farm, the connections we’re building with you, are meaningful far beyond the flowers. I’m sharing this with you because, as much as I want to present the farm as a place of beauty and joy, there are moments that are really tough.

 

And sometimes we feel like we don’t have the energy to show up fully, but those small connections—like running into a subscriber—can refill us in ways we don’t expect. You, this community, are that reminder for me.

 

Even on the hardest days, joy can find its way in. A shared smile, a kind word, or an unexpected connection can remind us why we keep moving forward.

 

Thank you for being here, for supporting the farm, and for sharing joy with me, even in the toughest moments. If you’re ever feeling overwhelmed, I want you to know you’re not alone. Sometimes, it just takes a little unexpected joy to lift us up. Thank you for being that joy for me, and I hope we can be joy for you, too.

⏳ Time & Memory

⏳ February 22, 2024 – This week at the farm, I find myself diving deep into the world of heirloom seeds. During a great conversation with my friend Beth (a fellow flower farmer near Waco), our discussion turned to our farm’s recent partnership with Baker Creek Heirloom Seeds to grow Argentine White Valencia peanuts—a variety with a rich history. I was sharing with her what I had discovered, and I had to share it with you, too.

 

Unlike hybrids, which are bred for specific traits but do not produce the same in future generations, heirloom seeds are open-pollinated plants that produce offspring identical to the parent generation. They're like time capsules of genetic diversity, preserving traits that have been cherished for generations.

 

So, what exactly qualifies a seed as heirloom? It's a seed that's been passed down through generations, often with a unique story to tell. When picking and choosing heirloom plants to grow, I can’t help but think these are so much more than just seeds we are dealing with—they're living connections to our past, carrying with them the flavors, aromas, and textures of times gone by.

 

The Argentine White Valencia peanuts we're growing have a particularly fascinating backstory. They were sourced from the collection of Blane Bourgeois, a legendary seed collector known for his unique and unmatched passion for preserving heirloom varieties. Blane's dedication to safeguarding these seeds for future generations is a significant part of the preservation of genetic diversity in our agricultural heritage. (Seed collectors must be some of the richest storytellers of our time. When I think of all the stories of acquiring seeds and the histories that went along with them… Blane would be a top guest at my ideal dinner party. People who have been lucky enough to know Blane speak of his home as if it was enchanted—thousands of potion-like containers containing seeds from all corners of the planet stacked high on shelves and in every nook and cranny.)

 

Unfortunately, Blane's story took a tragic turn in his later years. He became overwhelmed by the responsibility of maintaining his vast collection and became a hermit before his passing. But thanks to the generosity of his sister, who entrusted much of his collection to Baker Creek Seeds, these rare varieties could continue to thrive.

 

As I prepare to plant these peanut seeds in our soil, I can't help but feel a grand sense of connection—to the past, to the future, to Blane himself and to the countless individuals who have dedicated their lives to preserving our agricultural heritage. And of course, to the people who have influenced my own path to this project… each one of you.

 

Interestingly, it's moments like these, bridging the past and the future in the garden, that remind me of the beauty of living in the present.

 

The joy of tending to the soil, the thrill of watching seeds sprout, and the anticipation of what lies ahead… in gardening and growing, the joy truly is in the work.

 

Working in the garden, working with flowers, bringing joy to YOU… these have all taught me more about living in the present than anything I have ever done.

 

I have wasted so much time in my life replaying events of the past, yearning for a do-over. In those times, I missed the lessons right in front of my face—lessons I needed to learn to get better, to move forward.

 

I have wasted even more time stressing over the future, hoping for a control that doesn't exist. I worried about things that may or may not happen, and if they did happen, they rarely had the impact I was dreading or hoping for. I spent time making plans for futures that didn't come to pass.

 

Those moments of time I lost undoubtedly would have been better spent enjoying the present moment—the time I was in right then, the time we are in right now. We cannot let the present moment slip away from us by being stuck in the past or the future.

 

Right now is where everything is.

 

As I stand in the midst of our rows, surrounded by whispers of history and the intrigue of tomorrow, I'm just filled with gratitude for the opportunity to play a small part in this timeless cycle of growth and renewal. I hope the flowers we grow will inspire you in the same way.

 

Together, we keep discovering the good stuff, don’t we? Who could have guessed it was all waiting in the dirt.

 

So here's to embracing the richness of our past, savoring the beauty of the present, and nurturing the seeds of our future.

Summary of Metaphors

  • The Seed: The seed represents potential, growth, and the start of transformation. Throughout the scroll, seeds are a recurring motif – from actual seeds in the soil to the metaphorical seeds of connection planted between friends. They illustrate how small beginnings (whether planting a seed or starting a new habit or friendship) can blossom into something beautiful and meaningful over time. The seed metaphor matters because it emphasizes patience and faith in the growth process, reminding us that nurturing small positive actions or relationships can yield great change.
  • The Anchor: The anchor symbolizes stability and grounding. In moments of chaos or emotional turmoil, anchor appears as a metaphor for whatever keeps a person present and steady – for example, gratitude acts as an anchor amidst life’s chaos. This metaphor is powerful in the journey because it highlights the importance of staying grounded (in values, memories, or practices like gratitude) when faced with uncertainty. It’s the idea that some things can hold us firm and give us strength when the storms of life rage.
  • The Mirror: The mirror stands for reflection and perspective. Although the word “mirror” isn’t explicitly used in the entries, the concept is evident – we see it when Brett reads his grandmother’s journals and finds his own worth reflected back (“such a joy he is”), or when the kindness of a subscriber shows him the goodness he brings. These moments function as mirrors, allowing him to see himself and his situation more clearly. This metaphor matters because personal growth in the scroll often comes from moments of reflection – seeing oneself through someone else’s eyes or through honest self-examination – which leads to profound realizations and change in perspective.
  • The Circle: The circle is a metaphor for wholeness and the cyclical nature of life. In the scroll, there’s the circle of loss and life – exemplified by the horses gathering in a circle for both MJ’s birth and her passing – showing that grief and joy are interconnected parts of a larger cycle. The circle also suggests community – people coming together and being part of something larger (as seen when the community rallies around the farm in hard times). It matters in the overall journey because it underscores continuity and connection: even as things end, something new begins, and the support and love shared in a circle sustain the individual through these transitions.
  • The Heartbeat: The heartbeat represents the living essence or core purpose of an experience. Brett refers to the raw experiences shared on the farm as “the heartbeat of Three Dudes Farm,” meaning they are the vital force that gives it life. This metaphor conveys that vulnerability, connection, and shared humanity are at the core of his work. It’s powerful in context because it reminds us that beneath the daily work and challenges (the outward activity) is a strong, beating core of purpose – the love, passion, and meaning that keep everything alive and moving forward.