By this point… the trees were down. The space had started to open up. But what was left behind? Was just as much work. Stumps. Roots. Ground that still wasn’t ready for what we had in mind. Because clearing trees is one thing but building something on that land? That means starting below the surface.
So next came the excavator. and some long hours in that seat. Secretly I LOVE playing with big tonka toys and have tried to rent an excavator almost every other year just to continue to improve our land. So, this was pretty fun.
One by one, those stumps came out. Some easy. Some that held on for dear life. The kind that make you realize real quick… this project was bigger than it looked from the outside.
We had help along the way and this part wouldn’t have happened without it. Sonny Couture stepped in and hauled away all the stumps. Load after load… clearing the way for what would come next.
And those trees we dropped? They didn’t go to waste. Chris Ouellette hauled the logs out, delivering them to a local guy in Berlin with a backyard milling machine. And what came from that was something pretty special. Those same trees, right from this land, were turned into the fence posts and the boards used to make the gate, along with some rough boards for the shop to use to make skids.
There’s something about that. Using what you have. Letting the land give back to the project. And slowly the ground started to change again.
Cleaner. More open. Closer to ready.
This was the stage where it really sank in: We weren’t just clearing land anymore. We were building something.
Have you ever taken something rough or unfinished… and turned it into something meaningful?

If you had stood in our yard in October of 2018, you wouldn’t have seen an arena. You wouldn’t have seen plans, or posts, or anything that looked like what’s happening now. You would have just seen us standing there, looking out behind the house. Talking. Dreaming a little. Wondering…
What if we had our own place to ride?

Not somewhere we had to haul to. Not something complicated. Just a space of our own. It was the kind of idea you say out loud, but you’re not totally sure what to do with yet. Because right behind that idea was a reality we couldn’t ignore.
We didn’t have enough land. Not even close.

Everything that feels so real today started with something much smaller than an arena. Smaller than a plan. It started with a conversation we weren’t even sure how would go. We had to walk up the driveway next door and ask our neighbor if they would consider selling us the land behind our house. No guarantees. No backup plan. Just a quiet kind of hope that maybe, just maybe, they would say yes. Looking back now, it’s hard not to pause there for a moment.

Because none of this, not the arena, not the footing or fence, not the pavilion, would be within reach without that one step. Before the work. Before the clearing. Before the building. There was just a question. And the willingness to ask it. And somehow, that was enough to start everything.

It’s easy to look at something once it’s built and think it must have started with a clear plan or a big moment. But more often than not, it begins like this. Quiet. Uncertain. A little uncomfortable. A simple “what if.” And a decision to take one step forward, even when you don’t know exactly where it will lead.

Have you ever had a moment like that? A dream you weren’t sure how to start, but you said it out loud anyway?

​I’d love to hear it.

Some dreams take shape quietly.

They start as a simple idea… a “what if” that you carry around for a while. You picture it in pieces. You talk about it here and there. And over time, it starts to feel a little less like a dream and a little more like something that could actually happen.

That’s where this began.
And now… it’s official.

Coming in June.

This next step for 4C Horsemanship has been a long time in the making. It’s not just about building something new—it’s about creating a space that allows for more consistency, more opportunity, and more time doing what matters most: working with horses and helping people grow alongside them.

If you’ve ever tried to plan lessons, ride consistently, or keep momentum going through unpredictable weather, you know how challenging it can be. This has always been part of the vision—to create a space that supports learning no matter what the day brings. A place where riders can show up, feel safe, and focus on building confidence and connection with their horse.

That’s what this is about.
Not fancy. Not perfect. But intentional.

A space built for real horsemanship. For the quiet moments. For the breakthroughs that don’t always look big from the outside but mean everything to the person experiencing them. For the riders who are rebuilding confidence. For the ones just getting started. For the ones who keep showing up even when it’s hard.

There’s still work ahead. There always is. But this moment is the point where the idea becomes real enough to share.

I will be back tracking in the next few blogs to share where this all started. 
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And I truly can’t wait to share it with you.