Welcome to the Porch Light Journal, where the Farmhouse stays lit even on messy days. These are small moments from Ambrose Orchards, the kind you might miss if you don’t pause: a warm laugh, a tiny win, the crew doing what they do best. If you needed a gentle place to land, you found it.

March 31, 2026

Some mornings I wake up already tired of carrying my own mind around.

Depression has been hitting hard this month, and not the quiet kind either. The heavy kind. The kind that makes everything feel twice as hard and three times as loud. Still, I get up. I go to work. I come home. I take care of my family. And then, when the day is finally supposed to belong to me for a minute, I sit down to build the Orchard.

And like clockwork, the second my behind hits the chair, everybody needs something, the universe starts flinging bricks, and every worry I managed to outrun all day comes crashing through the door at once.

They call it high-functioning Major Depressive Disorder. Which is a very polished way of saying, “Look how well she performs while secretly fighting for her life in the laundry room, the car, and between emails.”

It is exhausting. It is lonely. It is real.

But I’m still here.
Still showing up.
Still building.
Still trying to believe that even this version of me deserves a little porch light left on.

March 27, 2026

This morning I woke up feeling miserable, like Friday had already made up its mind without asking me first. But somewhere between looking over my journal and staring down my own bad mood, I decided that was not how I was going to live my Friday. So I did something for me. I got my hair cut for the first time in a year, had five inches taken off, and walked out feeling lighter in more ways than one.

And as if fresh hair and a rescued Friday were not enough, Daisy Claire finally made her way onto eBay. I do not even care if she sells today. I am just proud I hit the button. Some victories are about the outcome. Some are about reminding yourself you still know how to begin.

Tonight I am grateful for fresh ends, a reclaimed Friday, and the quiet kind of courage it takes to choose a better day when the first version of it tries to go wrong.

March 25, 2026

Does anyone love the dentist - because I do not.  One emergency dental appointment, the need for two root canals and a crown later and $800+ out of my pocket.  Perhaps I should have been a dentist instead of someone who has big dreams.  Nah.  I love Ambrose Orchards and even if I'm the only one who ever sees it, I know I put my heart and soul into creating something the world really needs right now - a soft place to land after tough days.  Some of Granny Bears Tuna Salad.  A hug from Jax.  A smile from an Apple Basket Baby.  A warm fire, secret soil and family we created on our own and love.

February 15, 2026

This morning, Jax decided my keyboard and notebook were forbidden territory and appointed herself Head of Office Security. I set a Winnie the Pooh cloth on the desk like a peaceful little offering… then placed a manila envelope on top of it, because I knew it would offend her soul. She immediately launched a formal protest and tossed the envelope onto the floor. I used the distraction to reclaim my workspace, and honestly, I’m grateful for the laughter, the warmth, and the reminder that the “crew” is always here, keeping me present. 🐾

February 6, 2026

Tonight I learned an important lesson: when my plate is empty, Shadow and Dug take it personally. I had exactly zero leftovers, and they responded like I committed an unspeakable betrayal. Within seconds, they presented their butts at my feet in formal protest, as if the proper way to request food is with maximum rear-end confidence. I laughed so hard I couldn’t even pretend to be stern. Grateful for warm bellies, ridiculous dogs, and the kind of love that shows up even when the snacks don’t. 🐾