I am still buzzing from Thursday’s Equinox dinner.
So much love and intention went into making that night memorable for our guests.
Our chefs, Claire and Andrew, met extensively beforehand to design a menu where each dish highlighted fresh, locally sourced meat and produce. Our event lead, Sienna, ensured the evening flowed seamlessly — from the greeting of guests to the display of regenerative wines (which she herself sourced from Adobe Hill).
Meanwhile, Aidan and I poured hours into building a cob oven, ambitiously giving ourselves just seven days to complete the project. Our friends Alexa and Kelly shared their respective talents through a ceremonial tea and beautiful floral arrangements, while Kristen and Meredith supported with dishwashing and running. Finally, live melodic tunes and real-time art from Evan and Brooke put the finishing touch on the night.
The joy and pride I felt as I took in the energy of the evening was intoxicating — and the hangover hasn’t let up since.
The whole night made me reflect on how far we’ve come as a community.
Just a year ago, I remember the chaos of trying to host our very first dinner. We had no seating area, no bathroom, no plateware, no cutlery, no cups. My good friend Joey managed all the cooking while I juggled ticketing, marketing, sourcing, building, and everything else.
It was a tremendous effort to pull off, but I knew deep in my bones that the farm was calling for people to gather here. And I had made a commitment to myself to answer that call.
It hasn’t been an easy road.
A month before that first dinner, I tried hosting a sound bowl and tea ceremony at the farm. Only one person showed up. More than a little embarrassed, I nonetheless chose to make the evening beautiful and intentional for that one attendee. That night, I set an intention for myself: to turn the tiny farm into a thriving event space.
Flash forward twelve months, and we have so much to celebrate. We’ve hosted 34 events that have generated over $15K in revenue for the farm. We’ve built an outdoor kitchen — now complete with a fire pit, pizza oven, dishwashing station, and smoker. We’ve filled the farm with art from our closest friends, and extended it to include a flower patch that brings new color, texture, and wildlife to the space.
Most importantly, we’ve gathered hundreds at the farm to experience a simple truth: that food is more than sustenance — it is a way of reconnecting with nature, with community, and with oneself.
This is our mission: to be stewards of this piece of land for as long as we are given the opportunity, and to allow it to communicate the lessons it has to teach us.
From the outside, it may seem irrational that we continue investing in the farm and these events, knowing our future here is uncertain. But in facing that uncertainty head-on, a kind of rallying cry has emerged:
Be irrational with the beauty you create.
That’s why we’ll continue to pour our whole hearts into this farm and this community until the very end — whenever that may be.
So expect more dinners, more updates, and more lessons shared along the way.
And stay tuned for announcements about fall pizza nights at the farm (gotta put this cob oven to good use while we can!)
✌️