Our story
In 2024, my husband Brady and I took a leap of faith. We left behind the familiar hills of the Texas Hill Country and made our way to Abilene — a place that’s home in more ways than one. Brady was born and raised here, and I grew up not far away. Coming back to our roots just felt right. It was the beginning of something bigger than both of us — the dream of Ivy Road Farm.
We found a 10-acre property with a fixer-upper house and saw something beautiful waiting to be uncovered. With a lot of heart and a shared vision, we began building our dream: a boutique flower farm and creative homestead, one bloom at a time.
What started as a few rows of flowers has become so much more. We now grow and sell fresh and dried flowers — all from a little stand we lovingly call Sunny, nestled just off FM 1750. We believe in cultivating beauty and sharing it generously, whether it’s in a wrapped bouquet, a dried floral wreath, or a moment captured in the flower field.
In early 2025, my parents joined us on the farm, adding their hands and hearts to the work. We’re now a multi-generational team learning and growing side by side. Our days are filled with planting, harvesting, designing, and dreaming.
At Ivy Road Farm, every petal tells a story — of home, of seasons, of starting from scratch and growing something that lasts. Whether you’ve visited our flower stand, followed us online, or are just discovering us now, we’re so glad you’re here.
Why Flowers
My whole adult life, l’ve been searching for a place-a feeling of belonging, of alignment. I wanted somewhere that felt like home, a place to truly put down roots. For twelve years, my husband Brady and I searched. Each move brought adventure, but none of them ever felt quite right. Eventually, I started to wonder if maybe it was me-that I just needed to be more content. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake that restless feeling… that quiet nudge whispering, this isn’t it.
Then, in 2021, everything changed. I became incredibly sick-sicker than I had ever been before. I’ve struggled with ulcerative colitis since I was 19, but this was an all-time low. I was in my darkest place physically, emotionally, and spiritually.
And that’s when the flowers found me.
One day, I closed my eyes and had the most vivid vision: rows and rows of flowers stretching into the distance. It was breathtaking. I saw myself walking through that field-healthy, vibrant, and at peace. It was such a contrast to my reality, it brought me to tears. I held onto that image like a lifeline, visiting it in my mind whenever things felt unbearable. That vision gave me hope.
For the next few years, Brady and I tried to bring that vision to life. We put in offers on multiple properties, doing everything we could to make it happen. But nothing worked. Every door closed. I was heartbroken.
We were living in a beautiful place, but the yard was full of giant oak trees-not a single patch of sun for growing flowers. I tried to pivot, landscaping with shade-loving plants, hoping it would fill the void. It didn’t.
Then, in early 2024, we took an unexpected trip to visit Brady’s family in Abilene, Texas. On a whim, I opened Zillow-just see what was out there. And there it was. The moment I saw the listing, I knew. Ten acres, a fixer-upper house, and enough sunshine to grow a thousand dreams. It was love at first sight.
A few days later, we made an offer. Within months, we’d uprooted our entire lives and moved-again.
Everyone thought we were crazy. We had just finished renovating our home. Our backyard was finally complete. I was starting to feel better. Why risk all of that? And let’s be honest—most people don’t dream of leaving the lush Hill Country for West Texas.
But it felt right. Like I was being pulled toward something bigger.
And now, I can say it: the feeling I spent so many years searching for is here. The restlessness is gone.
We’ve started our dream, and I want to share its beauty and hope with others. Because sometimes, when it feels like life is burying you, you’re really just being planted. And with a little patience… something beautiful can grow.
Thanks for being part of this journey!
With dirt under our nails and flowers in our hands,
Sara
