Pull Up A Stump

Who pulls up a stump…

Who we welcome, and what a day looks like

We host small, scheduled groups rather than drop-in crowds, so every visit stays calm enough for the animals and the people. Three groups sit closest to our hearts:

• Elderly guests and memory care groups. Slow walks, seated time with the goats and rabbits, and gentle chores that give hands something familiar to do. Caregivers and family are always welcome to come along.
• Veterans. Quiet acreage, no crowds, and honest work — feeding, brushing, fence-checking — at whatever pace the day allows.
• Survivors and supporters of suicide prevention. Unhurried animal therapy time for people carrying grief or a hard season, with no pressure to talk and no schedule to keep up with.

A typical visit runs an hour or two: meeting the herd in the pasture, time with the ducks, chickens, pigs, and barn cats, a stretch of woods and garden to wander, and a stump to sit on when you'd rather just watch. Our working dogs and my service dog, Eliza, are part of the farm too. Nothing is timed, and nobody has to participate in anything.

Where we are: we're tucked away in The First State, on fifteen-odd acres — an easy drive for families across Delaware and from nearby Maryland and Pennsylvania. Visits are by arrangement only through the waitlist, and we share exact directions once a date is set. If you're looking for a care farm in Delaware for a group, a loved one, or yourself, write to us below and tell us what you're hoping for.

How the roots took hold…

Sow It Began

Dementia runs in both of our families — mine and my husband's — so memory has never felt guaranteed to us. For me, it became personal in a body that started betraying me early: I live with Orthostatic Hypotension and recurring syncopal episodes, which means I pass out without warning. Between the episodes, the fear of losing my memory, and seasons of depression and anxiety shaped by society and a marriage that has weathered real storms, I went looking for ground that would hold me.

The farm held me. Feeding animals at sunrise, watching a goat kid take its first steps, pulling weeds until my thoughts slowed down — it worked on me like medicine with a better view. A care farm didn't feel like a business plan. It felt like a calling: if this land could carry me through the worst chapters, it could carry someone else too.

Now we welcome guests on a very select basis: waitlist events, and occasional nature and animal therapy days for the elderly, for veterans, and — closest to our hearts — for survivors and supporters of suicide prevention. Small groups. Real animals. No rush.

Our property has an amazing way of making you feel completely isolated from society's noise, but whole at the same time. Nature grabs you, in a sense, and you immediately feel the warmth of curiosity we all lost when we were children — wanting to explore everything our fifteen-odd acres have to offer.