We owe it all to Carol

When my mother-in-law Carol died in 2013, I had no idea I’d start a flower farm, a venture that’s possible only because of her.

In 1974, Carol and her husband Gordon Stuller bought six acres in the boonies of northern Baltimore County. The area was called Bentley Springs because of the abundant natural springs that bubbled up, and only a few houses dotted the road, some of them built in the 1800s.

Carol and Gordon built a 70s-style Dutch Colonial, the first floor wrapped in speckled brick, the second covered in asphalt shingles. Within a few years, the couple separated, and Carol raised my husband Erik in the home. She worked extra shifts as a nurse to keep the house. She also planted several trees that stand on the property today. Her favorite was a sugar maple that glows from within every autumn.

When Carol and her second husband Gary wanted to downsize, they asked Erik and me to buy the house. Reluctantly, we did. The house needed more updating than we’d thought, but the property with mature trees, a small stream, and a clump of woods was perfect for raising our three children.

I dabbled in gardening and over the years developed large perennial beds—a buffet for the herds of deer that meander through the yard daily.

Carol loved to see how we improved the property. She and I talked about me growing Christmas trees, and though I never did, I remember she loved the idea. Perhaps it’s a nod to the memory that I harvest greens from the pine trees she planted to make Christmas wreaths. My pleasure in the land validates all her hard work to keep the property through lean years.

Last summer, when the beds were blooming and the trees flush with leaves, Gary stopped by. He surveyed the landscape and said, “Carol’d be real pleased with what you’ve done here.”  I can’t help but think she’s helping in her own divine way.