Our Story

Stewardship and rawness of life are two impressions that stuck with me from my early childhood. I grew up taking tractor rides with Dad on our dairy farm, and remember the rich, sweet, smells of wildflowers, cattle dander, and manure. Mom tells me that as a little girl I drank only raw milk from our cows, and I imagine that my respect and love for the natural world springs from these relationships.  Learning to provide sustenance for myself and my family became a part of my vision and will always be an integral part of who I am. 

A passion for a self-directed style of teaching sprouted early, as I created space for each of my imaginary children and teddy bears to make their own dreams come true. This led to Montessori and Waldorf training as an adult, and eventually, to an intensive study of prenatal and perinatal psychology.  The common thread is an emphasis on providing nurturing environments in which the human soul can thrive. 

My husband Greg and I met in 2000. I had long felt the strong call to motherhood, and knew deep in my heart that this man was to be the father of my children. Sofia and Zoe came along soon after.  During their early childhood years, we lived in an off-grid, pioneer log home in the mountains of Colorado. Being an undeniably talented woodworker, Greg designed and built this structure himself. The man can build anything. Seriously. Our life was sweet, but we missed our extended family. In 2008, we moved back to my native state of Virginia to be closer to loved ones and seek new opportunities.  

We found a house on fifteen acres of wooded land in Nelson County, and got busy building and clearing and planting. I was able to put my vision of small-scale farming into practice, and to integrate this into a cooperative homeschooling community. Youngsters would make their way to the farm to milk the goats, collect eggs, and cover up seedlings. We built our homestead with love and hard work and lots of little hands. 

Life took a dramatic turn in 2017, when our youngest daughter, Zoe, developed an extremely rare form of cancer. The idea that I was in control of how strong and healthy my children would grow up to be was totally shattered. Our family embarked upon a spiritual journey, led by God, that sustained and shepherded us throughout the experience, and which continues to guide us to this day.  Zoe eventually put down her battle with cancer in 2018 on a November morning at the young age of 14. Returning to our farm without her has been one of the most painful yet exquisitely profound experiences of our lives. Where once there were abundant crops and the bustle of children at work and play, there was now stillness and a tangled mess of honeysuckle and wild hops. After the exhausting work of trying to keep Zoe alive, we dug even deeper to reclaim the land from invasive vegetation that had taken over every square inch of good soil. 

Our grief is many-layered, and we continue to move through it every day, every minute. These heart shaped rocks are a reminder that love will bind us forever to Zoe, to God, to the eternal, and to each other.  Surrendering to that love has opened a door of possibility.  Our family and friends lived, loved and thrived at HeartRock, and infused it with a tranquil, nurturing, and compassionate spirit.  We now want to share that with others.  To make HeartRock a place where people can come as they are, and see others for who they are. A place to be present, joyful, and alive in the continual process of becoming.

Life at HeartRock wasn’t always what I expected or wanted, but it has kept me connected to my lifelong passion for nature and for creating nurturing spaces. HeartRock reminds me that there is a constant in an ever-changing and challenging world, and that is love.