Season's Eden: Year One in the Dirt (and Why That Matters)

Our first-year accomplishments, October 10, 2024 to now

The closing was not smooth. We were supposed to close at the end of September. There were issues. It dragged. We pushed through every obstacle and finally closed on October 10. Fourteen days later, we were in. No long runway, no gentle transition. Just: "We're here now. Let's start."

We landed on 55 acres of woods and water — a five-acre lake, old buildings, overgrowth, and a vision that a lot of people quietly thought was impossible.

It wasn't turnkey. It wasn't "ready to rent." It was "roll up your sleeves, learn what a culvert actually does, pray over the budget, and build something that matters."

Here's what we've actually done in Year One — honestly, slowly, stubbornly, and with so much gratitude.

We protected what we have.

The first thing we did was take care of the bones.

🏠 New roof on the barn and shed.
Those buildings are part of the long game: storage, workspace, and eventually guest-facing experiences. Before anything cute happens, you make sure water stays out. So: new roofs. Handled.

🔧 Clubhouse septic upgrade.
Nobody puts "septic upgrade" on a T-shirt, but you don't build a retreat without reliable infrastructure. We invested in septic at the clubhouse because that building is going to be a hub for people: food, community, rain days, late-night board games, all of it. You don't get that if you skip the unglamorous stuff.

We started waking the property back up.

When we arrived, not everything worked. Literally.

💡 We got the lights working.
The driveway and the clubhouse area were dark, or half-lit on and off. Now there are working lights all the way up the drive and around the clubhouse. That sounds small until you've pulled in here at night, under the trees, and felt that shift from "abandoned" to "welcome."

We're moving from brown and dull to warm, cheerful yellow.

🛤️ We graded the driveway.
Access matters. Safety matters. First impressions matter. We've put in work to grade and improve the drive so people can actually make it up without bottoming out or getting stuck. That's not Instagram — that's hospitality.

We raised our first platform.

We officially have the first platform up for our very first dome.

It's not finished. Not furnished. Not booked out. But it's physically there, in the ground, real.

That platform is proof of concept: people can and will sleep here and wake up to trees and water instead of drywall and highway noise. It's the first "you can stay here" moment for Season's Eden.

We are behind the original schedule. That's the truth.

But we are building as we can, with what we have, without selling out the soul of this place or burying it under debt we can't carry. That's also the truth.

We planted food.

This part is personal.

We didn't start with tidy raised beds and a Pinterest herb plan. We inherited a four-tier garden that had been completely swallowed in weeds and overgrowth — the kind of overgrowth where you couldn't even tell where one tier ended and the next started.

We've been uncovering it, hauling out the weeds by hand, reclaiming each level, and bringing it back to life.

Out of that mess, we got our first blooms and veggies in the ground and coming up.

• We've grown enough to taste it, to share a little, to get excited.
• We have not grown enough yet to fully feed our future guests from the property. Not yet.

But here's what matters:

We're learning as we go. We're figuring out soil, light, water, timing, pests, and what actually wants to live here. We're figuring out what this land will give us if we take care of it.

Long-term, we're building toward true on-site farm-to-table: herbs, produce, flowers, eggs — fresh from Eden to the table at Eden.

That doesn't happen in one season. It happens by rescuing what's already here, rebuilding it, and letting the land wake back up with us.

We're building real relationships, not just structures.

This year wasn't just sawdust and receipts. A big part of the work has been community.

• We've been getting to know the people here — not in a brochure way, in a "can I call you when the well pump goes weird?" way.
• We're earning trust, showing up, listening, and not pretending we're coming in from a city to "fix" rural life. We're here to be part of it.

That takes time. But it's already paying off in the most important way: partnership.

We're collaborating with the Amish.

This is huge for the future of Season's Eden.

We've begun working with Amish builders in the area on two major parts of our buildout:

• Treehouses
• Future domes / structures

Here's why that matters:

We are moving away from pure metal-frame "shiny dome dropped in the woods" thinking and into structures that are more sustainable, more natural, and more in harmony with the land.

That looks like:

• Local materials
• Smarter use of wood
• Craft that respects the environment instead of fighting it
• Buildings that feel like they belong here, not anywhere

This is us walking our talk about conservation, not just using the word "eco" in marketing.

The Eden Arboretum is taking shape.

What started as an idea — "What if this is more than glamping? What if this is education, conservation, and healing?" — is now becoming an actual program.

The Eden Arboretum plan is in motion:

• Trails and plant zones are being defined.
• Native growth is being respected, not bulldozed.
• We're working toward a space that invites visitors to learn, participate, and care for the land, not just take pictures in it.

The Arboretum isn't just plants with labels. It's philosophy. It's how we teach "this land matters" to kids, families, friends, and guests who may be standing in true quiet for the first time in a long time.

We built our launch systems.

Behind the scenes, we've been doing the tech and business setup that most people don't see — but you'll feel it when you book a stay.

📅 We partnered with Newbook for our booking management system.
That means reservations, guest communication, availability, all in one place instead of duct-taped spreadsheets. We are building this to run like a real retreat, not just "text us and hope."

🌐 We moved the website off GoDaddy and into a custom build.
We're stepping out of the cookie-cutter template world and into our own voice, our own story, our own visuals. The site is evolving with us — showing real progress, real photos, real offerings as they come online.

This is us getting ready to welcome guests with an actual experience, not just an idea.

We opened the door for supporters.

We didn't just dream in silence. We invited people in.

🎁 We created our crowdfunding tiers.
That means you don't have to be a big investor to be part of Eden. You can support early, help us build infrastructure, help us get the domes and boardwalks and gardens in place — and you get something meaningful back.

This is community-funded conservation and hospitality. It's "we're doing this together," not "wait until we're perfect and then show up."

We are still "semi off grid," and that is intentional.

We are not pretending this place is a finished luxury resort. We're not pretending you pull in and it's all spa robes and cocktails waiting with your initials burned into the garnish.

We are honest:

We're semi off-grid.
We are actively building.
You are part of the story when you come.

We say "we're growing Eden," because that's literally what's happening. We are not flipping an existing resort. We are growing something that didn't exist here before.

What this year really was

This first year was:

• Move our lives across states and start over in rural Missouri with two weeks' notice.
• Stabilize the property.
• Make it safe and functional.
• Repair, not just imagine.
• Show physical progress (roofs, grading, septic, lighting, first platform).
• Reclaim an overgrown four-tier garden and get food growing in our own soil.
• Root ourselves in the local community.
• Build respectful partnerships with local craftspeople.
• Stand up real booking + web systems.
• Create a way for people to invest in something bigger than a weekend trip.

It wasn't fast.
It wasn't perfect.
It wasn't always pretty.

But it was honest. It was real work. It was foundation.

Year One was us saying:

"This land is ours now. We are here. We're not leaving. And we're building something worth keeping."

On to Year Two. 🌿