Marcus, Manda and I were fortunate to grow up with families who have very similar values -- which is probably why we are so intertwined with each other. They taught us to love hard and unapologetically; that there is always a way to get where you are going; and once you get there, you better turn around and help others get there too.
When Marcus and I first started planning owning a homestead & developing our self-sufficiency skills, we traded a lot of stories of our families growing up -- the way my dad always fed anyone who showed up hungry to his table; the way my mom could sew anything you put in front of her; the way his mom refused to give up in the face of endless trials and tribulations. His granny being terrorized by a particular rooster, my grandma being terrorized by several chickens. One thing rang true throughout the late night conversations: self-sufficiency skills ran in our blood, and it was time to return to the homestead to humbly honor our ancestors.
While thinking of names for our business (and lifestyle), we both threw multiple name ideas onto the table, but nothing felt perfect until one night, in our front yard garden while pulling out corn stalks, I was telling a story of my grandma Lou and her opossums living in her house. Marcus listened intently to my rambling as I naturally started to speak of my grandmother fondly, having lost her in 2011 -- telling him about how she grew up in the 40s and 50s on a small plot of land. I told him about how my daddy added my middle name as Lou as a nod to my grandmother, and how my second middle name Suzan is a nod to my mother and my grandmother Karen Sue. I told him about how much I missed her, and how she always reminds me of the type of strong I want to portray.
Grandma Lou's father worked on the railroad and her mother was a homesteader -- passing on some of the same tips that I hope to pass on through this blog. They grew what they needed to help survive in a rural Missouri town; two parents and eight children with some chickens and a garden. I told him about how several of her siblings had nicknames - there was Tootsie, and Sister...but then there was Peachie, my grandmother. She was gorgeous, just gorgeous, and loved her family hard with her entire heart. She also knew no stranger - feeding anyone who came to the door; spending hours chatting on the phone; volunteering in her later years with her church.
Peachie Lou Farms was one of the first names on the table - a nod to our ancestors (both alive and passed on) and specifically for my grandmother. After all the long conversations about how to best portray our want for this world and how we wanted to benefit others and not just ourselves, Peachie Lou Farms LLC was born.
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