A Greenhouse Built on Love

This humble greenhouse will always remind me how blessed I am to have Mr. Scott as my best friend, loyal husband, and business partner.

This wasn’t his idea. It was mine—something I had dreamed up, pinned to my vision board and filed away under someday.

But Mr. Scott knows by now—someday usually turns into right now when I get an idea.

We were on a separate mission, heading out to pick up a second milk cow (also not his idea), when I casually announced a tiny detour. I had come across an ad from an elderly gentleman who was about to have his old house demolished the next day. He thought the porch windows might be worth salvaging.

Umm… yes, please!

We wound through tiny downtown streets, navigating our oversized farm rig and cow trailer until we found the house. From what I gathered in our conversation, the windows had already been removed, neatly stacked, and waiting for pickup.

Well… that was not the case.

At this point, we could have driven on. But because Mr. Scott is the kind of man who climbs mountains to make me smile, he just shook his head, grinned, and did his best to parallel park our enormous farm vehicle on a narrow, ancient street.

Our crew tumbled out of the truck and met the homeowner—a 95-year-old man whose 125-year-old house still stood firm around those beautiful old windows. He seemed just as surprised as we were that they were still attached.

On the bright side, he had a box of antique hand tools in the garage that he generously offered us. Given that they looked about 150 years old, I had to laugh at the situation I’d once again managed to land us in.

But by then, it was too late. I had already fallen in love with those windows.

I could already picture them standing tall in a little greenhouse, the sun streaming through, warming tiny seedlings that would one day fill our farm with food and flowers.

So, Scott and the boys got to work. Using an assortment of archaic tools, they carefully cut and wiggled each window free, one by one. Meanwhile, I kept our new friend company, telling him about our plans for the windows and sharing stories about our farm and forest school.

I could see how much it meant to him—knowing that the windows that had sheltered his family for generations would now have a new life, serving another family in a whole new way. Offering them up to the public, free of charge, was generous.

We thanked him, wished him well, and promised to send a picture of the finished greenhouse. Then, we loaded up and continued our original mission—picking up The Pudge, our new milk cow.

Later that summer, Scott spread the windows across the lawn and, without a blueprint, came up with a greenhouse design in his head. Together, our family finessed each piece into place, painting it with cans of curbside rescue paint I had picked up on trash day.

And just like that, a wild idea became something real.

Today, that little greenhouse remains one of my favorite places on the homestead. Maybe because it’s charming and full of life, or perhaps because it’s a physical symbol of love from my best friend, patient husband, and ever-supportive business partner.

What Scott sometimes lacks in enthusiasm for my wild ideas, he more than makes up for in willingness.

And for that, I am endlessly grateful.

-Miss Erin