January at Arrowhead Acres :
Becoming Stewards of a StoryA Season That Asks Us To Listen
January feels like an exhale here.
The land softens under a quiet layer of snow.
The meadow rests.
Light moves more slowly through the cabin windows.
Winter doesn’t ask us to produce or rush—it asks us to notice.
This is the season when Arrowhead Acres feels less like a place to do and more like a place to listen.
When the Past Comes Knocking
This month brought a moment I didn’t expect—and one I won’t forget.
We met the original owner of the cabin as we were pulling out of the property one afternoon.
He arrived with stories and photographs from the late 1970s—images of the cabin when it was new, simple, and full of early-life energy. Seeing those photographs alongside the space as it exists now felt grounding in a way I didn’t anticipate.
Not everything has changed.
Not everything was meant to.
What has changed carries the marks of care, time, and intention.
Standing between then and now, I felt a deeper sense of responsibility — not ownership, but stewardship. This place has lived many lives already. Ours is simply one chapter in a longer story.
The Land Still Speaks
If you’ve spent time at Arrowhead Acres, you know the deer are part of daily life here.
They move quietly through the meadow, often in small groups — resting, watching, gathering. They feel like gentle reminders to slow down and live in community.
This winter, something rarer appeared.
A black fox.
It was brief and quiet, almost dreamlike glistening in the sun. In many traditions, black foxes are seen as symbols of intuition, adaptability, and standing at the edge of change. Whether or not you attach meaning to moments like that, its presence felt like a quiet acknowledgment — that something here is shifting and becoming.
Not loudly.
Not all at once.
But steadily.
Creation in the Cold Months
Winter doesn’t stop creativity—it refines it.
Inside the cabin, tables have been filled with vision boards, felted wool, laughter, and small moments of pride. Hands learning something new. Ideas taking shape. Children, teens and adults all proudly holding what they made.
These workshops aren’t about perfection. They’re about presence. About making something tangible during a season that encourages inward work.
The Work You Don’t Always See
Much of January happens behind the scenes.
Planning sessions at the table.
Binders open.
Coffee chilling beside a candle.
Notes layered with intention.
The kind of work that doesn’t always show up on social media, but matters deeply.
This is where the future of Arrowhead Acres is shaped — slowly, thoughtfully, and with care for what already exists.
Becoming What the Land Allows
Arrowhead Acres isn’t becoming something despite its past — it’s becoming something because of it.
The land leads.
The season guides.
The people shape what unfolds next.
January reminds us that growth doesn’t need to be loud to be real.
Sometimes it’s enough to listen.
My hope is that this place continues to feel like a pause —
a space where history is honored, creativity is welcomed, and connection is allowed to form naturally.
Sometimes, it looks like an open door.
A quiet welcome.
An invitation to come in,
warm up,
and stay awhile.
Here’s to a year rooted in creativity, community, and beautiful beginnings.
With warmth,
Susan
