Last Barn of its Kind
another restoration
My dad found the listing: an abandoned old farm, 20 minutes from our home in Idaho.
$1,360 an acre, all-in.
But hidden in plain sight was a nugget of gold: a hand-hewn timber-frame barn on the brink of collapse.
Today, it’s a stunning hospitality property, and here’s the story how.
finding a gem
During the post-pandemic wobble in rural land prices, this forgotten farm hit the market. Rolling wheat fields, a handful of scrappy buildings, and a near-collapsing barn piled high with rusting equipment near the brow of the hill.
The barn was in serious disrepair. But when we took our friend Kevin, an old-barn expert, to see it, he lit up. This frame was hand-hewn, and really special.
Turns out, the barn was built in 1910—a Dutch-frame barn, already rare for this part of the country, and possibly the last of its kind ever built. The craftsmanship was elite.
We acted fast.
My dad used a business line of credit to buy it (not supposed to, but you have to get creative), then immediately subdivided a few buildable lots and sold them off, recouping nearly half the purchase price for the whole place.
Then we got to work.
My brothers dismantled the barn, beam by beam, washing and restoring each one. A new concrete foundation was poured. They they reassembled the frame, adding epic windows to capture that view.
While waiting for the windows (delayed, of course), my brother John built a silo.
Well, technically, he built a 3-story tower clad in corrugated tin, styled like a grain silo. Inside? A commercial kitchen on the first floor, and luxury suites above.
Next door sat a hundred-year-old farmhouse, “updated” in the ‘60s or ‘70s.
But after stripping all that obnoxious faux paneling and vinyl siding, we found another gem beneath.
My brothers refinished all the floors, exposed beams, and original brick. My mom, queen of antiques, scoured shops and sales to furnish it with period pieces. Every corner tells a story.
I was busy in Texas building Live Oak Lake during this season, but I made one small contribution: sketching a simple mural which we painted on the side of the barn.
Morning Glory Farm, in honor of the wildflowers blanketing the long driveway—and the kind of sunrise you’ll never forget from that hilltop.
ruins to retreat
Today, the barn hosts weddings. The silo serves as bridal and family suites. The farmhouse is a standalone rental rich with history and nostalgia.
Every few months, my mom, sisters, and their friends host a proper High Tea there. Homemade finger foods, elegant pastries, fresh flowers, hot drinks, and warm conversation fill the cozy little house. (The waiting list is long, but everyone’s welcome.)
And all of this sits just outside the quaint town of Deary, Idaho—home to The Pie Safe, Brush Creek Creamery, the train depot and so much more.
Two of my brothers live on the property, and we have big plans for Morning Glory: orchards, more animals and more gardens—a true working farm experience for all to enjoy.
Working together as a family is one of the deepest joys of my life.
Everybody brings different strengths (and plenty of weaknesses). You learn (it’s a process!) to compliment instead of compete.
Really grateful for the family God has given me. Wouldn’t trade it for anything.
I found a photo of some of us siblings and friends after a family dinner in the barn. We climbed the hill for sunset. Then a harvest moon rose over Morning Glory Farm.
Moments like that remind me: it’s not just the projects, but the people in them. This is the good stuff.
Time to plan a trip? They’d be happy to host you, and I bet you’d leave inspired.
Have a wonderful week, and go create more beauty—wherever you find yourself.
—Isaac