Life on the Farm in 2025
Fresh From The Farm
January 2026
A NEWSLETTER FROM HEIRLOOM SPRINGS
In herbalism, winter is a time to reboot, restore, and rest. Rest is taken seriously, almost like a job. For me, rest naturally leads to reflection, and reflection often turns into writing. I write to remember what happened, what I could have done differently, what I did well, and what I learned along the way. As I sit here typing, the ground outside is covered in a beautiful blanket of snow that has hardened into a sheet of ice. It is the kind of winter day that invites quiet observation from indoors, fire lit, looking out.
In 2025, we celebrated our fifth year on the farm. It was a year that held both deep joy and real hardship. With that, here is a look back.
The year began quickly. Last January, I traveled to San Francisco to teach a group of Pilates apprentices, only to return home and be asked to make a last minute trip to Paris just three weeks later. I had never been to Paris and was thrilled. My event manager Sophie joined me on that trip, something that would become more meaningful than either of us knew at the time.
Three days before leaving, my beloved horse Luke died. He was a gentle giant, and losing him left me devastated and full of questions I still wish I had answers to. While the grief remains, I am forever grateful for the people who showed up for both Luke and me. That day revealed just how deeply he was loved, not only by me, but by the many who passed his field each day.
I arrived in Paris tired and heavy hearted. Sophie, true to form, had thoughtfully planned our time so that I would experience the city beyond the walk to and from the studio where I taught. In my state, I would not have done that on my own. There was laughter, good food, and light. It was a gift I did not yet know I needed.
When I returned home, Luke’s absence was palpable, but the seasons continued on. Rebecca, my right hand in the farm and garden, and I methodically spread about twenty pounds of grass and clover seed in Luke’s field, inviting something beautiful to grow and perhaps holding the potential for another in the future.
Garden season arrived as it always does, with seeds to plant, dirt under my nails, and the familiar realization that from spring onward we would be playing catch up until winter again.
As the gardens grew, so did the rest of the work here. Retreats, farm and Pilates classes, and our beekeeping calendar all moved forward.
2025 marked my third year in business with Heirloom Springs, and this was the year I watched the pieces begin to come together more seamlessly. It felt like the kind of symbiosis you see between peonies and ants, quiet, necessary, and mutually supportive.
The retreats deepened in a meaningful way. The gardens, flowers, bees, forest, and educational offerings began to feel more aligned, working together rather than alongside one another. We hosted five retreats and welcomed many wonderful visitors, friends, and family throughout the year.
The gardens themselves reflected the unpredictability of the season. We could not keep up with the berries, while a late April freeze left the stone fruit orchard nearly empty. Greens, peppers, and herbs thrived, while squash and tomatoes struggled more than they have in past years. We had also hoped to hatch more guinea fowl, but welcomed just four keets, who are now nearly full grown and preparing to join the flock.
2025 was also our largest honey harvest yet. We expanded from five hives in the spring to seven, harvested over 250 pounds of honey, and then merged a couple of hives to help them make it through the winter. Only time will tell, and we will not know until the warmer days ahead.
One of the most significant moments of the year was Ruby’s arrival. I was not looking for a horse, but she found me. My trainer says it is because of my heart and kindness that I have had the incredible fortune of finding not one, but two extraordinary horses. Ruby has brought sheer joy, curiosity, and adventure. Earlier in the summer, I began taking riding lessons again, gently returning to the saddle and to the world of horses. Through my trainer, I learned someone was looking for the right home for Ruby, and it became clear it was the right fit at exactly the right time.
This year also asked me to tend to my own strength. I took a deep dive into cooking classes and began working with a trainer, lifting weights alongside my Pilates practice. Keeping up with the physical demands of the farm and the work I love requires care, consistency, and discipline.
Looking back, I see a year shaped by care, loss, joy, and a steady commitment to showing up. As the land rests under winter’s cover, so do we. What has been tended, seen and unseen, is still unfolding. There is much ahead that I am quietly holding and looking forward to, and for now, it feels right to rest here, trusting the season and what is still to come.
XO,
Rachael Lieck Bryce
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