Hi I’m Chris, third generation Oregon farmer.
Like all families, my family has a story. Our story is told by our humble farm.
Sixty years ago, my grandma and grandpa scraped together what they could and purchased a small south facing plot of land thirty miles west of Portland, in the heart of the Willamette Valley. The land was beautiful, but the farmhouse on the property would never fit my grandparents and their seven children. This place had a spirit to it and my grandparents felt it. Being a young family of nine from very modest means, making that vision a reality fell to them. So, they went to work.
The farmhouse had to be expanded. Everyone in the family even the very youngest learned to swing a hammer. Bedrooms and living areas rotated as they constructed the new home all around them. They got used to wearing extra layers of clothes when the bitter winter wind cut through temporary black plastic walls. Their hands calloused from hauling in wood to frame the walls that replaced the plastic ones. As spring came and construction on the house was still in process, they tilled the land in the day and hung sheetrock at night. Saturdays were divided between planting rows of corn and tomatoes and nailing shingles on the roof.
The land demanded a lot, but it also gave back.
Rocks and boulders, dug up from clearing the farmland and hauled out from the creek bed in an old rickety wheel barrow, were used to build out the whole front corner of the new house, its massive chimney and centerpiece hearth. The natural freshwater spring that flowed through the property irrigated the crops. The rich fertile soil of the Willamette Valley and world renowned growing weather caused those crops to thrive. In time, and after a lot of work, my grandparents watched as their dream became a reality. It wasn’t a dream based on status or money or any of the things we tend to base dreams on these days. It was the dream of seeing your honest work grow and flourish, watching the work of your hands grow into something special and beautiful, and doing that work with the ones you love most.
The thing about this land is, it gets in your bones.
I grew up here. As a kid, I scaled the stone chimney and sat by the fire on the stone hearth that my mother and her sisters laid with their own hands. I slept under the roof that my grandfather and uncles built. I ran through the forest floor, climbed trees, jumped over boulders and streams in woods that my family cleared. And most importantly, I learned the joy of working the land: the joy that comes from watching life sprout and take hold, tending to that life so it can thrive and provide its natural bounty and then watch that life return back to the soil to complete the beautiful, magical cycle that we are all a part of. This land has given me and my family so much, I feel a sacred obligation to honor this special place. To me - there is no better way to honor this land than to use its rich soil, optimal weather, and natural organic environment to bring the most good to my fellow humans.
It is in that spirit that we created Springhill Farm.
There is a deep connection between the land and the plants that spring out of it. That relationship is intimately tied and inseparable. Our passion lies in bringing the purest form of this natural relationship of soil and plant, to you.
We get it. The only way to get to know us, is to try us.
We’ve put our heart and soul into this and want you to experience the difference that our humble little farm and carefully cultivated and curated strains make.
We’d love for you to try it yourself. So, we’re making it simple. You cover shipping, and we’ll send you a sample of the strain of your choice. Already use our product? Help a friend experience the difference, on us!