About Thistlewood Farm

My name is KariAnne and I am so happy to meet you.

Thistlewood Farm is so much more than just DIY’s and home decor.

It’s about family and tortoises and recipe plate racks and shutter walls and twirly whirly skirts and pancakes and Lee Press-On-Nails and little pieces of paper.

Two young girls smiling and leaning against a tree in a sunny park, one in a white blouse and the other in a gray top.

This is the story of our dream

You see we lived in the world of the big city with all the lights and fanfare that a sprawling urban area has to offer. There were restaurants and shops and movies and plays and museums and malls and lots and lots and lots of stuff. And everywhere you looked, there were people pushing and shoving and climbing to the top, arms overflowing with everything they had or were trying to get.

And my husband was on the fast-track in a tall skyscraper in the middle of that metroplex with all of its fast-paced allure and overwhelming responsibilities. And although we were happy with our life and our family was so busy.

Maybe too busy.

Maybe too busy for each other.

A smiling couple posing together on an old bench, built using tips from a "how to build a bench" guide, against a weathered brick wall backdrop, exuding a sense of casual comfort and

But amidst all of that busy was a dream.

A dream of a place where life was simpler.

A place where our children could run and breathe and grow without all of the constraints of an overwhelmingly fast-paced lifestyle.

A place where the all of the busy and the noise and the clamor could end in a screeching stand-still.

A place where you could see the stars.

A young girl with blonde hair, wearing a white blouse and patterned skirt, gently holds a fluffy orange cat while standing next to a large tree in a lush park.

But the merry-go-round was spinning faster and faster.

Life was becoming one giant blur, sailing by at lightning fast speed.

And we felt like we spent all of our time and energy just trying to keep up.

Then one day in church, the pastor preached a sermon entitled, “Just Jump.” He spoke of listening to your heart and the Lord and if you felt like there was an insurmountable dream….you shouldn’t be afraid….you should jump.

And we heard his words and they spoke to the very center of our hearts.

And we wanted to jump as far and as fast as we could.

But we were afraid.

We were so scared.

We couldn’t just jump off the merry-go-round.

Or could we?

A series of round stepping stones lead through a lush garden with rich soil and vibrant green plants lining the path.

The doubts were swirling around and around in our heads.

But there it was…..a still small voice saying…..“jump.”

Not “jump” in all caps, but “jump” in tiny, small, timid, little letters.

And so we did……

…..jump, that is.

We jumped from the clamor and noise and busy to a still, quiet, beautiful countryside with acres and acres of land to run and play and….

…..breathe.

But that wasn’t the end of the story. There were more chapters left to write. A year ago we left our farmhouse and the winding country roads and the cows and the hay and the barn and the fields of Kentucky to jump again.

And so we did.

Jump that is. We jumped right back to where it all began. We bought back the house I grew up in from the people my mother had sold it to when my father passed away. It’s a house full of stories. Like the mirror I stood in front of on my wedding day and the dining room where I celebrated every Thanksgiving and the stairs where I sat and waited for Santa Claus.

I miss Kentucky.

Truly. I do.

But when I get lonely for the countryside, I step outside in the cool, crisp air and listen to the house of stories whispering my name in the twilight and gaze up at the night sky…

….and see those same stars.