From Cubicles to Cattle: The Wayfarer Begins

Well, I did it. On April 11th, I hung up my badge and walked away from the world of cubicles, conference calls, and concrete. Silver Spring is in the rearview now, and Tazewell—my forever mountain home—is calling the shots.

Life has taken a turn in the most surreal way. One minute I was staring at a computer screen under fluorescent lights, and now, I’m sipping coffee while watching the morning mist rise over a hillside dotted with the most enormous black and white cows you’ve ever seen. It feels like I woke up in someone else’s dream, but I know it’s mine—I’ve just finally come home.

Chris rolled in from Pensacola, and the two of us are knee-deep in breathing life into this old building on Main Street. Wayfarer isn’t just a place—it’s a promise. A gathering spot for music, for meals made from the land around us, and for stories that deserve a seat at the table. But let me tell you, this kind of magic takes sweat. The building sat quiet for a long time, and it shows. We’ve got construction ahead and repairs galore, but we’re not afraid of hard work. We were made for it.

Today we’re meeting with the construction team—good folks who understand the bones of a place. And the Health Department walked through already, giving us a green light. It’s all becoming real. We also got the news that we’re approved for the local food bounty market, which means we’ll be working directly with farmers from right here in these mountains. That feels right. That feels like the heart of what we’re doing.

This land has stories older than all of us, and it’s humbling to be building something here. The mountains aren’t flashy, but they’re steady. They don’t shout for attention—they just are. And that’s how we want Wayfarer to be. Strong. Grounded. Full of soul.

More soon,

Mystic Mountain Mama

& the Wayfarer crew