Field Notes
August 28, 2026
As the summer is winding down, goldenrod blooms across the fields, offering its late-summer bounty for the taking. The hydrangeas are heavy and changing from creamy white to a blushing pink, while the black-eyed Susans hold their dark faces to the August sun. Together, they are what the garden is offering now. Gathered into old vessels and placed along the table.
The drought has left its mark. Nearly six feet of water has vanished from the pond, and the grass has grown crisp beneath our feet. Thankfully, the heat has broken, giving way to cooler evenings and nights that carry the first quiet suggestion of Autumn.
And somehow, the farm smells like perfume.
I have searched the garden and the edge of the woods; sweetgrass maybe? I cannot place where it is coming from. It seems to be a part of the air itself, sweet fleeting and impossible to name.
The farm is tired, beautiful, and changing. Even in the season of drought, it finds something to gift us with.
The Farm
Frosty Thistle Farm is a place shaped slowly—by land, by seasons, and by a love for gathering.
What began as something personal has grown into a space to be shared. A place where people come together in a way that feels simple, grounded, and quietly intentional.
Frosty Thistle Farm takes its name from a beloved horse who shaped so much of my adult life—Poco Frosty Thistle. He taught me how to ride, carried me through years of showing, what it means to trust, to grow, and to love without condition. Though he is no longer here, his spirit is still part of this farm—and always will be.
Here it is less about perfection and more about presence. Good food. Open air. Time to slow down.
A place to gather, to celebrate, and to create something meaningful.
When the Linden trees bloom, the whole farm changes.
Each summer, the air turns sweet and floral—like perfume drifting softly through the trees. It’s one of those fleeting, magical moments you wish you could hold onto.
Mid-summer at Frosty Thistle Farm carries a scent you can’t quite explain—soft, warm, and fleeting. The linden trees bloom quietly, filling the air with a fragrance that feels like it belongs somewhere far more rare than the open woods. It’s the kind of moment you don’t plan for… you simply find yourself in it.
Breathe it in… that intoxicating fragrance no perfume has ever matched. Just Mother Nature, doing what she does best.
Absolutely magnificent. 🌿