How Our Story Took Root
They say every garden is high maintenance. Ours just comes with two ladies attached.
When my Daddy passed away last year, our world shifted in ways I still can’t quite put into words. Grief has a way of leaving you untethered, like someone quietly pulled the roots out from under you. For Momma, it was especially hard—after a lifetime of marriage, suddenly the house was too quiet, the days too long, and the nights even longer.
That’s when we decided to build her a little cottage on our land. A sweet, cozy place where she could start fresh but never be alone. We wanted it to feel like hers—full of the things she loved, little bits of comfort, and space to breathe again. And while walls and a roof gave her a home, it was the garden that gave her purpose.
What started as a few raised beds turned into a full-on family project (thanks in no small part to my husband, who somehow became the reluctant CFO of “Two Ladies and a Garden”). He may not have asked for the job, but his patience has been flourishing… even if our zucchini hasn’t.
For Momma, digging her hands in the soil was more than planting seeds—it was therapy. It was mornings filled with something to look forward to, evenings spent watching things grow, and days that reminded her that life can still be beautiful, even after loss. And for me, it’s been a blessing to share this space with her.
So yes, our garden is high maintenance. But so are we. And maybe that’s the real charm. Because behind every tomato, marigold, or wayward zucchini, there’s a story of resilience, love, and two ladies finding their way forward, one seed at a time.
“Yes, our garden is high maintenance. But so are we. And maybe that’s the real charm. Because behind every tomato, marigold, or wayward zucchini, there’s a story of resilience, love, and two ladies finding their way forward, one seed at a time.”
Judy & Trish Jones
