The Day the Bosky Dell Found Us.

Before we knew its name, we knew there was something about this place

There are some dreams you make plans for.

And there are others that quietly follow you around for years.

For a long time, I have wanted a piece of land.

Not an enormous farm or something perfectly manicured. I wanted enough space to grow things. To know the trees. To plant gardens that could become more beautiful with every passing year. To have animals wandering nearby and herbs drying in the kitchen. To create places where people could gather around a table, sit beneath a tree, drink something warm, and stay awhile.

More than anything, I think I wanted land I could care for. Land that I could honor and appreciate.

I didn't have a name for what that meant yet.

Then we found this place (or I’d like to think that it found us).

The first time we came up the driveway

I wish I could tell you that I immediately knew exactly what The Bosky Dell would become.

I didn't.

There was a house surrounded by trees. A little cottage tucked into the property. An enormous shop that needed imagination. Old garden beds. A meadow. Fences. Water features. Towering cedars.

And so much green.

It wasn't polished.

It wasn't a retreat.

There wasn't a lavender field or an apothecary or a beautiful gathering space.

There were just little moments when I kept thinking:

Oh, this place is something special.

I could imagine herbs growing near the cottage.

I could see lavender somewhere in the open land.

I wondered what it would feel like to sit beneath the enormous cedar tree with a cup of tea.

I started imagining chickens.

And goats.

Obviously goats.

One idea led to another.

Then we made an offer.

At that point, we still didn't know the property's history.

We didn't know that nearly a century earlier, in 1927, this land had been part of a place given the name Bosky Dell.

We didn't know about Mossy Brae, Hill of Home, or Sunny Slope.

We didn't know that bosky meant wooded or leafy and that a dell was a small, sheltered hollow.

All of that came later.

And when it did, something shifted.

Because suddenly it felt less like we were trying to invent an identity for this place and more like we had been given the opportunity to continue its story.

A different kind of dream

I've thought a lot about the word stewardship since then.

We will own this property on paper.

But these trees were here long before us.

The land has a history that reaches far beyond the 1927 plat we've discovered—and far beyond us. Indigenous peoples cared for and lived throughout these rivers, forests, and valleys for generations before this property ever appeared on a county map.

And, if we're lucky, many of these trees will still be standing long after we're gone.

So perhaps owning land isn't quite the right way to think about it.

For this chapter of its life, we get to care for it.

I love that idea.

So what are we creating?

That's the funny part.

We're still figuring it out.

We have a name now:

The Bosky Dell.

And we have the beginnings of a philosophy we're calling Root & Ritual.

We know there will be gardens.

Lavender.

Rosemary.

Roses.

Calendula and medicinal herbs.

There will be chickens and goats.

We hope there will be tea made from things grown steps away from where it's served. An apothecary filled with small-batch botanical creations. Workshops and gatherings. Shared meals. Creativity. Quiet places beneath the trees.

And there is a little cottage on the property that already has a name from long ago:

Mossy Brae.

That is where we'll begin.

But I don't want to wait until everything is beautiful and finished before telling this story.

Actually, I want to do the opposite.

I want to remember what it looked like before.

The overgrown garden beds.

The old carpet.

The shop before the windows and chandeliers we've started dreaming about.

The first plants we put in the ground.

The things we try that don't work.

The history we uncover.

The people we meet.

The first lavender harvest.

The first cup of tea made entirely from this garden.

The first time people gather here.

All of it.

Because I have a feeling that someday the beginning will be one of the most precious parts of the story.

And so, this is the beginning.

The Bosky Dell isn't open yet.

There are no reservations to make or events to attend.

Right now, we're simply learning the land.

We're walking it.

Measuring it.

Photographing it.

Discovering what's already growing here.

Listening.

Dreaming.

And deciding, slowly, what belongs.

I'll share that journey here as it unfolds—the gardens, the renovations, the animals, Root & Ritual, the history we're uncovering, and all the unexpected discoveries along the way.

I don't know exactly what The Bosky Dell will look like five years from now.

And for once, I don't think I want to.

I want to let it unfold.

Welcome to the beginning.

— Bre