Horses have always been part of our lives — and part of our passion.

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Some of the earliest memories are summer weekends spent on the trail as a family. My mom, dad, brother, and I rode together nearly every weekend until I was about ten or eleven years old. Those long trail rides shaped more than just riding skills — they built confidence, independence, and a deep love for the partnership between horse and rider.

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My mom and I have always been especially close. In fact, she had me up riding a pony well before I could even walk.

 

I had a pony who tolerated my enthusiasm. Every single log along the trail became an obstacle, and I insisted on jumping them all. My mom noticed. That curiosity and drive led her to enroll me in lessons and eventually into Pony Club — a decision that would shape everything that followed.

 

Pony Club became the foundation of my horsemanship education. It wasn’t just riding — it was stable management, veterinary knowledge, conditioning, safety, and responsibility. I often say it is like earning a college degree in horses at the highest levels. I did earn national ratings before aging out, and the education I gained there still influences how I train and care for horses today.

 

As a teenager and into early adulthood, I competed in eventing and classical dressage, while also spending many years riding Thoroughbreds and horses of all breeds out on the trails. Those experiences deepened my appreciation for correct training, foundational development, and the kind of horsemanship that holds up over time.

 

In 2014, life shifted.

 

I was diagnosed with a brain tumor, which had to be removed that same year. Things that used to be simple became extremely difficult. I was still able to ride, but everything felt different — physically and mentally. Competing was no longer an option, so I returned to what had always grounded me: the trail.

 

But not long after surgery, an unexpected opportunity presented itself.

 

Just a few months into recovery, I learned to drive on a pair of Belgian mules in preparation for a cross-state wagon train. It was unfamiliar, challenging, and completely outside of what I had known before — but it opened a door.

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That journey across the state, behind those mules, became my first real introduction to driving.

 

When the wagon train ended, the mules returned to their owner, and I went back to what I loved most at the time — trail riding my big Quarter Horse through the mountains and open country.

 

I spent many of the following years in the mountains of the Pacific Northwest. Mount Rainier, Mount St. Helens, Mount Adams, and the Goat Rocks became my playground. The miles were long, the views were endless, and the connection to the horses ran deep.

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But over time, I began to more notice changes. Over the next few years, severe Rheumatoid arthritis started affecting my hands, feet and heart. What had once been second nature — holding reins, managing contact, riding for long hours — slowly became more difficult and increasingly painful.

 

Then, in 2022, life shifted again.

 

Physically, riding was no longer something I could sustain without significant pain. Rather than stepping away from horses, I chose to adapt.

 

And in a way, I found my way back to something that had quietly started years before.

 

Carriage driving.

 

That same curiosity that once led me to jump every log… led me to explore something new again.

 

In 2022, I began learning about a discipline called Combined Driving (CDEs). What started with an unmatched pair of Welsh ponies — simply because they were the only two I had that were close in size — quickly grew into something much more.

 

By 2023, I had produced another CDE driving pair - Bert & Barney, my two red heads! That unlikely pair went on to win the North American Preliminary Pair Ponies CDE.

 

What once felt like a detour had clearly become direction.

 

What began as necessity became calling.

 

Frontier Farm was built from that season — rooted in resilience, patience, and the belief that meaningful work evolves.

 

Today, the farm is dedicated to classical foundations, thoughtful development, and long-term care. Progress here is steady, not rushed. The journey matters as much as the result.

 

In 2025, life pivoted again.

 

In July, we made the decision to put the family farm in Washington, up for sale as my father entered hospice. It was a season that required faith in a way that words hardly capture.

 

If you ever want to hear a story about God moving mountains and making a way… I’d be happy to tell it.

 

On October 22, my dad passed away.

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Less than a month later, on November 19, my mom and I loaded up twelve ponies, one horse, two mules, and five dogs… and began the journey from Rochester, Washington to Sweetwater, Tennessee.

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It wasn’t just a move.

 

It was the closing of one chapter, and the beginning of another.

 

A return to family.

A step forward built on faith.
And in many ways, a full-circle moment.

 

My mom spent a lifetime making sacrifices for me — and this became a season where I could begin giving some of that back, while building something that allows us to be closer to the people who matter most - FAMILY.

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Frontier Farm stands today because of everything that came before it — the lessons learned, the challenges faced, and the faith it took to keep moving forward.

 

Supporting thoughtful horsemanship.
Loving the journey.

“For we walk by faith, not by sight.”
— 2 Corinthians 5:7

 

Because building something meaningful — with horses, with people, and with purpose — requires both vision and trust.

 

And the best part? It’s still being written.

 

Welcome to Frontier Farm.