We've been thick in planning the future, so much tedious mental math around using our existing resources. We may not be money rich but we are extremely wealthy. We have a spectacular community that supports us and 107 acres of nature that teaches us a lesson everyday if we just show up for it.
Thank you for your emails which always seem to arrive in my inbox at a low moment when I need them the most.
What we've been working on is essentially plans for a Worlds End hospitality group. It will aim to serve each and everyone of you in 2019 and will consist of a conglomerate of homespun businesses here at the farm including the Coyote Cafe, the Heartbreak Hotel, A New Ewe day spa and some sort of cocktail bar (yet to be branded) that centers on my mother Susan's ability to mix a killer martini and draws on a 1971 version of herself in which she had a successful matchmaking business. (She found a husband)(Not my father).
Did I mention the Heartbreak Hotel?*
At some point in the last year or so we started to receive more inquires about visiting the farm than wedding inquiries. Even though we started the farm in order to grow flowers for our wedding work it has unfolded into much more than that. It is home to multiple questionable fermentation projects, a summer camp for lackadaisical dog training, a sanatorium for washed up florists, Zoe's experimental shed of sourdough and sewing, my personal color theory lab, and an ongoing inquiry into alternative plumbing and composting toilets. It has essentially become our test kitchen for living ... a place of such strange beauty and joy that extends far beyond our floristry work.
In many ways I have kept the farm to myself and to those close to me. I think this was important through what has been a big transition in me, for Saipua, and in my attitude towards business - a word that I loathe but have come to realize is the only way to keep doing the work that can make for positive change. In order to keep striving for new creative ways of seeing value and economics we have to work inside the current economic system. Or else I'll have to sell the farm and end up freelancing for another florist. I'm a terrible freelancer, arrange flowers at a snails pace (always have - ask Nicolette) and require too many snack breaks.
Last week I traveled to the city and sat with a friend to explain all of our schemes for 2019. Behind the hospitality group is a serious grid of interlocking micro-plans; crop plans, living plans, new staffing plans, new city cafe plans, etc. In some ways all these plans are quite complicated, and in others way quite simple. But recently I realized that they mimic the economics of nature which are evident everywhere here: Take note of what you have a lot of, use that to the net benefit of everything around you, and don't exploit it.
We're very excited to have you here in 2019.
*Who wants to get married at the Heartbreak Hotel at Worlds End?
Thank you for your emails which always seem to arrive in my inbox at a low moment when I need them the most.
What we've been working on is essentially plans for a Worlds End hospitality group. It will aim to serve each and everyone of you in 2019 and will consist of a conglomerate of homespun businesses here at the farm including the Coyote Cafe, the Heartbreak Hotel, A New Ewe day spa and some sort of cocktail bar (yet to be branded) that centers on my mother Susan's ability to mix a killer martini and draws on a 1971 version of herself in which she had a successful matchmaking business. (She found a husband)(Not my father).
Did I mention the Heartbreak Hotel?*
At some point in the last year or so we started to receive more inquires about visiting the farm than wedding inquiries. Even though we started the farm in order to grow flowers for our wedding work it has unfolded into much more than that. It is home to multiple questionable fermentation projects, a summer camp for lackadaisical dog training, a sanatorium for washed up florists, Zoe's experimental shed of sourdough and sewing, my personal color theory lab, and an ongoing inquiry into alternative plumbing and composting toilets. It has essentially become our test kitchen for living ... a place of such strange beauty and joy that extends far beyond our floristry work.
In many ways I have kept the farm to myself and to those close to me. I think this was important through what has been a big transition in me, for Saipua, and in my attitude towards business - a word that I loathe but have come to realize is the only way to keep doing the work that can make for positive change. In order to keep striving for new creative ways of seeing value and economics we have to work inside the current economic system. Or else I'll have to sell the farm and end up freelancing for another florist. I'm a terrible freelancer, arrange flowers at a snails pace (always have - ask Nicolette) and require too many snack breaks.
We're very excited to have you here in 2019.
*Who wants to get married at the Heartbreak Hotel at Worlds End?