Ladybug Farm, Pinebluff, NC (2026)

08/22/2026

I am so grateful for another season at Weymouth Equestrians. ❤️
As a girl who grew up afraid of horses—and who, in no way, will ever own one because of the cost (unless I someday take up the new hobby of hand-plowing my fields with a beautiful draft horse! 😂)—I was gifted a daughter who loves horses among all animals.

I am so grateful that Weymouth gives her a place to be surrounded by others who share that love and curiosity to learn. A place where she can learn the personalities of many different horses, discover that each has their own dietary needs (yes, sometimes our homeschool math involves calculating the winter hay costs of a single horse, just so she won't hate me quite as much when I remind her that we will not be owning one), and spend time learning about horses both in and out of the saddle.

She has classroom time, one-on-one horsemanship throughout the seasons that works wonders on a young girls confidence levels, trail rides through the longleaf pine forest along the path to the oldest living longleaf, and opportunities to learn from elders in our community who share their varied passions—from carriage driving to polocrosse. She rides in group lessons with instructors who are incredibly caring, aware, calm, and steady, creating a space where both horse and child can learn with confidence and respect.

The longer I homeschool, the more I understand that I cannot hold this space alone for my children. It takes a village. It takes people who see our children, nurture their interests, share what they know, and give them opportunities that I simply cannot provide on my own.

I am so grateful for the people and places that have become part of our children's education—and especially grateful to be growing roots here in this county. 🌿🐴

08/18/2026

What a year for tomatoes! 🍅

Although an unexpected frost knocked out half of my tenderly cared-for plants in April, thankfully I had backups—and frost protection on others. A couple months later came the heat and drought, which, as it turns out, kept rain off the leaves and blight at bay.

Every couple of days, we found ourselves clearing the table of red ripe tomatoes, only to fill it again with another round ready to finish ripening for a day before being transformed into some form of sauce. In truth, we haven't had a tomato harvest this successful in years, and it feels so good to fully stock the pantry for the year ahead—and perhaps even a little beyond.

Tomato sauce. Tomato sauce with onions, garlic, basil, and oregano from the garden. Pizza sauce. BBQ sauce. Tomato soup. Fresh salsa. Fresh tomato cucumber salads. 🍅

Recently, the big rains finally came. I was picking more rotting tomatoes for the animals than I was for us. There were still a few lingering salvageable tomatoes on the determinate bush plants, but I pulled the plants to clear space for the coming autumn garden—a fresh, hopeful patch for greens and root vegetables.

Not every season gives us this kind of abundance. Not every crop fares this well. So I'm trying to pause here and savor this one: the harvest, the hard work, the full pantry, and the quiet satisfaction of having grown and preserved enough to carry us into another season.

Grateful. ❤️

08/17/2026

And what of the Minotaur? After an epic first day of arrows flying, he regenerated in Tartarus and reclaimed his place at Ladybug for Day Two. More arrows flew, followed by spears—and then spears launched by atlatls, an ancient tool that gave the children an entirely new way to test their strength and skill. But ultimately, it took an energetic band of boys armed with sticks they had gathered from the forest to finally demolish the beast, accompanied by battle cries so fierce that the girls of Team Athena could hear them from far across the forest.

08/14/2026

⚔️ Camp Half-Blood at Ladybug Farm ⚔️

Nine years of summer camps at Ladybug, and somehow I find myself saying this: I never could have imagined that one day I would be confidently leading a Greek mythology camp.

Before motherhood, I certainly never envisioned myself navigating the complexities of Capture the Flag beneath a forest canopy, debating the virtues of ancient Greek deities, teaching children archery, or singing the ancient Greek alphabet with confidence. And yet, here we are. ❤️

This camp began because of my daughter's deep love for Greek mythology and the Percy Jackson books. Many years ago, she took me down a path I wasn't sure I was ready to follow. She wanted to learn Ancient Greek—not modern Greek—while she was still struggling to read and write in English. My instinct might have been to redirect her toward what seemed more practical, but my Waldorf education had taught me something important: study the child before you. Pay attention to where their curiosity is leading. Be present for the relationship that is unfolding.
So we followed her passion.

And somewhere along the way, I believe I became a better mother, teacher, and person because of it.

This was our second year of Camp Half-Blood, and this year she asked if she could share a song and a few verses from The Odyssey spoken in Ancient Greek during morning circle. Watching her stand there and confidently share something that had once seemed so wildly impractical reminded me of why I believe so deeply in allowing children to pursue the things that genuinely fascinate them.

And the rest of the week unfolded from there.

Our campers built forest blinds from fallen materials and learned that strategy begins with listening to one another. They practiced archery and painted a giant Minotaur target before eventually battling the very creature they had created. They traveled through mythological quests involving Athena, Poseidon, Hermes, Medusa, and the Golden Fleece. They learned the Ancient Greek alphabet, sang together, solved riddles, crossed creeks, navigated blindfolded through the forest, and crowned one another with laurel.

And, of course, there was Capture the Flag.

Team Ares and Team Athena spent the week strategizing, assigning roles, communicating across the forest, celebrating victories, navigating disagreements, and learning what it means to compete fiercely while still treating one another with kindness. There were wins and losses, draws, muddy feet, a few tumbles, plenty of laughter, and some very serious strategy meetings beneath the pines.

But some of my favorite moments weren't the epic ones at all.

They were the children sitting together at lunch.

The bracelets made for every member of Team Athena.

The spontaneous games of chess.

The children creating their own version of Capture the Flag without any adult direction.

The conversations that lingered in the forest because no one was quite ready to leave.

I transformed a classic Guess Who? game into a Greek mythology challenge, with children using yes-or-no questions to identify gods, goddesses, heroes, and monsters. We played Monster Mash-Up, acted out Medusas and Minotaurs, debated impossible Percy Jackson Would You Rather? questions, and discovered that "Divide the Circle" could become something much deeper than a silly game when children realized they could stand alone on one side of the circle, confidently explain their thinking, and still listen respectfully to everyone who disagreed.

That may have been my favorite activity of the entire week.

Because this is what I hope our camps become: places where children can be wildly curious, physically adventurous, deeply imaginative, and completely themselves—while learning how to live alongside other people who may think very differently than they do.

Homeschooling has given our family the freedom to cultivate that kind of culture. A culture where a child can become fascinated with an ancient language, follow that curiosity for years, and eventually stand beneath the pines singing it for a group of younger children. A culture where learning doesn't always have to begin with what adults think a child needs to know, but can begin with what the child is already longing to discover.

I am so grateful for the children who joined us this week, for the families who trusted us with their adventures, and for my husband, who continues to walk this homeschooling and Ladybug Farm path alongside me and makes it possible for me to spend these weeks doing what I love.

My heart is TRULY full after nine years of summer camps at Ladybug.

Sometimes our children lead us down paths we never would have chosen for ourselves.

If we're willing to follow, we may discover that they were leading us exactly where we needed to go. 💛

Until the next adventure, campers...
ATHENA!
ARES!
CAMP HALF-BLOOD!

08/04/2026

We try to plant a variety of flowers that bloom throughout the seasons, but these Black-eyed Susans have me stopping in my tracks to simply take it all in.

There was a time when I believed flowers didn't have a place in my garden. I thought only the practical belonged. Yet the older I become, the more convinced I am that beauty has always been practical—not in the way our culture measures usefulness, but in the way our souls measure a life.

Not everything valuable can be harvested. Some gifts simply ask us to slow down long enough to notice them.

08/02/2026

Adventures in Alagaësia has come to a close, and my heart is full.

This camp stretched me in unexpected ways. Unlike many of our themed weeks, Eragon was first my son's story. He and his dad have listened to the audiobook series—well over 100 hours for the entirety of the Inheritance Cycle series books —more times than I can count. My son knows entire conversations by heart, remembers tiny details I'd never catch, and has spent countless hours sharing the world of Alagaësia with me before I fully read it myself. As much as I loved stepping into that world alongside him, I also let the weight of it intimidate me. I leaned more heavily on AI than I normally would for artwork and lesson inspiration because I wanted to honor a story that already meant so much to him. Looking back, I'm grateful I went for it anyway. I'm grateful my son got to watch me learn something new, take creative risks, make mistakes (yes... I painted Zar'roc the wrong color!), and keep going.

Over the course of the week, we wandered through Angela's apothecary, harvested herbs from the garden, blended Dragon Rider teas, searched the Sandhills for "dragons" hiding in plain sight, cracked open geodes to release crystal dragon hearts, practiced stillness through archery, solved riddles across the forest, explored fire starting through Brisingr, watched butterfly pea flower tea magically change color with a squeeze of lemon, met a very cooperative "Tree Dragon" (a black rat snake), examined shimmering mica "dragon scales," and finished with one final quest to recover dragon eggs hidden among the trees. The week was also sprinkled with wonderful imagination as children arrived each morning wearing cloaks, carrying wooden swords, sporting pointed elf ears, and fully embracing life as Dragon Riders. Even the weather became part of the story. When a thunderstorm rolled in and changed our plans, Ms. Brittney and I simply adapted, moving into the workshop where the children's creativity carried the adventure forward, and it left time during the weekend that followed to explore a similar theme that happened within the story. Some of my favorite moments weren't part of the lesson plans at all. They were the afternoons of unstructured play—children inventing dragon quests, debating whether to leave a red velvet ant in peace (they did), building games together, navigating disagreements, taking risks, getting soaked with water balloons, and finding their own stories in the forest.

One of the greatest gifts of the week was collaborating with Ms. Brittney of Wander & Root Nature School. There were so many moments when I simply stepped back and watched her with the children—sharing dragon "scales" from her travels, releasing our black rat snake back into the woods, or leading a dragon field study that seamlessly blended imagination with real ecology. I learned from her all week long. We bounced ideas back and forth, talked through how to respond to challenges, reflected on risk, and encouraged one another. Those conversations reminded me why collaboration matters.

People occasionally encourage me to create teacher trainings, but that has never really been where my heart rests. I don't believe there's one right way to guide children, or that mine is somehow the best. I simply try to listen—to the children before me, to the land, and to my own heart. This week embodied what I value most: passionate educators bringing their own unique gifts, remaining humble enough to keep learning, generously sharing ideas instead of guarding them, and showing up with genuine love for children. We don't need more people trying to become the same kind of teacher. We need more people discovering the beautiful, authentic ways they were meant to guide.

A tremendous thank you as well to All American Fencing Academy, and especially Coaches Isaac and Zion, for bringing so much joy, laughter, and skill to our Dragon Rider training. The children learned far more than how to hold a sabre or fancy footwork—they experienced discipline, focus, confidence, and the delight of trying something entirely new. You helped bring Brom's lessons to life in a way none of us will soon forget.

Thank you to every family who entrusted us with your children this week. Watching them laugh, wonder, question, imagine, and grow together beneath the pines was the greatest adventure of all.

"Perhaps dragons never truly disappeared. We simply learned to call them by different names." 🐉🌿

08/01/2026

The grass is greener… where you water it. 🌱

We have been making a few additions and improvements to our forest classroom, and I am SO excited to share this space with more children in the seasons ahead.

But before welcoming others into this place, we celebrated with our own family first. ❤️

We enjoyed a simple cookout together on an unseasonably cool evening, just after several days of soaking rain. The air felt fresh, the earth felt renewed, and honestly—it brought me right back to summers growing up in New York.

Some of my most treasured childhood summer memories are not big adventures or elaborate plans, but evenings gathered around a campfire with family and friends. Stories being shared, food cooking over the flames, laughter carrying through the night air, and the simple magic of being together outdoors. Those moments shaped my own love for gathering in nature and creating spaces where connection can unfold.

There is something so special about tending a place, watching it slowly evolve, and creating spaces where relationships can grow alongside the landscape.

The grass truly is greener where we choose to water it. 🌿

07/30/2026

It looks like this may be our first year harvesting kiwi berries! 🥝

The strawberries and blueberries were abundant this season, but our plums and peaches were a complete loss. It's a humbling reminder of why we choose to grow such a diversity of fruit.

When one crop struggles, another may flourish. Diversity brings resilience—not only to the garden, but to the harvest and our table as well. Each season tells a different story, and I'm grateful for the variety it brings to our family and our palate.

Here's hoping these little kiwi berries are as delicious as they are exciting!

07/29/2026

The reality of growing food... 🌽

What would you choose?

Beautiful corn that may have been treated with synthetic pesticides, genetically modified for insect resistance or herbicide tolerance, or even organically grown corn that may still have been sprayed with approved organic pesticides?

Or corn that isn't picture-perfect but was grown without any chemical sprays?

These ears have a little evidence that it shared the harvest with nature. After years of growing corn here in North Carolina, I've yet to produce a crop that is 100% beautiful and completely chemical-free every single season.

For me, growing food has been a lesson in adjusting my expectations. Nature isn't perfect—and perhaps that's exactly the point. Sometimes the small imperfections are a reminder that the food came from a living ecosystem, not a factory.

I'm curious... has anyone else found a reliable way to grow spray-free sweet corn in the Southeast without sharing a little with the corn earworms?

07/28/2026

A heartfelt thank you to the Aberdeen and Pinebluff Libraries for the countless adventures you bring to our family through your books, programs, and welcoming spaces.

You have become such a meaningful part of our homeschooling journey, inspiring curiosity, nurturing a love of learning, and helping create memories we'll carry for years to come. We are so grateful for all that you do for our community. 📚❤️

Ladybug Farm

08/22/2026

08/18/2026

08/17/2026

08/14/2026

08/04/2026

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07/28/2026

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