A Love Letter to Oak Spring Farm: Gratitude, Growth, and the Next Chapter

When I think about the last 19 years on this land, it takes my breath away. Not just because of the beautiful view, or the scent of tomato vines in July, or the way the golden light settles on the fields in October—but because of the life that has unfolded here. My life. My children’s lives. A life I built, with dirt under my nails and hope in my heart, one harvest at a time.

I started Oak Spring Farm not as a business plan, but as a lifestyle.

Growing my own farm to table dinners, skipping the produce aisle at the grocery store, canning pickles and beets, and making my own tomato sauce became part of life. A little CSA business blossomed and I was making enough money to pay for a family vacation. It was a perfect little business for an outdoorsy stay at home mama. 

The lifestyle became my lifeline.

Ten years ago, after my divorce, I faced a choice. I could sell the farm my kids had grown up on—the only home they’d known—or I could figure out a way to stay. I wanted to keep them in their schools, in their routines, in the familiar comfort of the woods and fields that surrounded our home. I wanted to be present, to work from home, and to create a life that gave us not just stability, but purpose.

Farming full-time, making a living from it, and supporting a family as a single mom wasn’t exactly the safe bet. Many people thought it was impossible. And in truth, I didn’t always believe it myself. I’d spent years dependent on my spouse’s income, and stepping into financial independence was daunting. But I knew one thing for sure—I was going to try.

And so I did.

With the help of a loan officer who believed in me, friends who encouraged me, and a few fellow farmers who didn’t laugh when I showed up with more questions than answers, I started down this path. My parents stood by me, my friends cheered me on, and slowly but surely, I began to believe in myself. The farm became not just a job, but a teacher. It taught me how capable I am. How strong. How resilient. I’ve learned to trust my instincts, to ask for help, and to keep going even when things feel too heavy.

This farm has been more than a livelihood—it’s been a multidimensional life. My kids grew up gathering eggs, helping at market, and watching their mom work hard and figure it out. They saw setbacks and solutions. They saw grit, grace, and plenty of dirt. They learned that sometimes, what looks impossible just needs a little time, support, and belief.

To say I’m grateful is an understatement. This journey wasn’t mine alone. It’s been woven with community—from the CSA members who’ve come back year after year, to the market customers who told me my arugula was the best they’d ever tasted. From the friends who lent a helping hand to the farm crew who showed up with energy and heart. Every single person who said, “You’ve got this,” played a part.

Oak Spring Farm has been the setting for countless memories, milestones, heartbreaks, and joys. It’s where we’ve celebrated birthdays, mourned losses, launched a business… and where I found myself. I am proud of what I’ve built. Humbled by it. And forever changed because of it.

And now, the time has come for a new chapter.

This farm—my teacher, my sanctuary, my livelihood—is ready for its next steward. It is not without grief that I say that. But the land is speaking. I feel it in my bones and in my heart. It’s time to pass the torch. To share what I’ve learned. To bless the next person who will walk these rows, tend this soil, and build their own dream here.

I will carry Oak Spring Farm with me forever. I may be letting go of the land, but I’m not letting go of the love, the lessons, or the legacy. And I hope that, in some way, my story offers a little spark to someone else who’s facing the impossible.

Because sometimes, with a bit of faith, a lot of sweat, and the magic of community, impossible turns into a life beyond anything you imagined.

With deepest gratitude,
Lisa Wheeler Duff