Flowers on 29: Mile Marker 10½

How the Perkiomen Trail Took My Land (and I Made It Bloom)

2024 Sunflower bucket. I learned I have a favorite bucket.

Let’s get right to it: part of my family’s land was taken by eminent domain to make way for the Perkiomen Trail. The Weirman family had been living on & farming this stretch of land for generations, long before anyone thought to slap on some spandex and bike through it. We didn’t exactly roll out a red carpet when Montgomery County came calling with survey stakes and legal forms.

If you are not clear about what eminent domain means and how it can possibly come to impact a multi-generational property, here’s a short, short version.

One day, a government official shows up and says, “Nice place you’ve got here. We’ll take it.” That, dear landowner, is eminent domain—the government’s legal right to take private property for public use, whether it’s for a highway, a school, or a “scenic” drainage ditch. The kicker? They do have to pay you “just compensation,” though opinions often differ wildly on what “just” actually means.

You can’t exactly say no, but you can negotiate—or at least frown very hard while signing the paperwork.

Eminent domain: it’s the real estate version of “it’s not personal, it’s infrastructure.”

But like most things that get planted with good intentions and a heavy hand, the trail grew—literally and figuratively.

A (Slightly) Bitter Beginning

The Perkiomen Trail, owned and operated by Montgomery County, Pennsylvania came with a vision of community and connection. For many local families, though, it also came with loss. In our case, it meant watching a piece of our history disappear under gravel and bike tires.

There was the added concern at the time (in the 90’s) that our Grandmother was living in the house at the time. She was an independent lady and while she was used to her sewing customers coming and going to drop off & pick up sewing repairs, the thought of strangers walking feet from her back door 24/7 was a breach to safety & privacy that we were not quick to sign over.

It’s hard to let go of something your great-great-grandparents built, especially when it disappears with the stroke of a government pen. For a while, every cyclist that zoomed by felt like a reminder of what we lost.

From Land Grab to Love Affair

Time does what it always does—it moved on. And so did we.

What started as a controversial construction project has become a beloved local treasure. The Perkiomen Trail now stretches through woods, towns, and fields, offering space for reflection, recreation, and really good dog watching. And somewhere around mile 10½, right where my family once grew corn and tomatoes, you’ll now find something just as colorful: rows of flowers, grown by hand and heart.

I have quite a few not so nice stories about trail trekkers, but I would rather focus on the positive. I have the regular dog-walkers who stop to chat about how the flowers are going. I have some bike riders who I may see once or twice a year and they stop to catch up. I even have some of my grandmother’s customers from back in the day who stop to tell me that my grandmom would be proud of me and the hard work I am doing. How about we try not to cry in front of all the others, ok?

Welcome to Mile 10½

My flower farm, Flowers on 29, sits right along the trail. It’s a one-woman (and some reluctant sons and some guest appearances by my parents and friends) operation rooted in love, grief, stubbornness, and dirt under the fingernails. After unimaginable loss, flower farming gave me purpose. And now it gives a little something back to the community, too.

(Trigger warning for my friends & family - you can skip this part). In 2006, I had my first baby. She was the cutest baby girl and I am biased, but she was an easy, happy baby. I was doing my best as a working mom (teaching high school full-time) and I was lucky enough to have my family (thank you, Stace!) helping me to care for her while I worked. My daughter was diagnosed with cancer when she was 5 months old. She died when she was 17 months old. I had twins 10 months later and one of my twins also was diagnosed with cancer (not hereditary) and died a few short months later. Let’s fast forward 5 years and I have an unruptured brain aneurysm and brain surgery while pregnant with baby number 4. My husband dies suddenly on a Thursday evening in 2021…it has been A TIME! And now…over years and much work and searching, I have fought back through growing flowers and sharing joy.

People walk by and smile. Kids point from bike seats and yell “sunflowers!” Old and new friends stop and talk. Some days, it’s just me, 10,000 weeds, and the sound of sneakers hitting gravel. Other days, it feels like this mile marker is a tiny hub of human connection.

The Sunflowers Are Coming

This summer, I’m going big on sunflowers. They’ll be blooming from mid-June through August, bright and unapologetically cheerful. If you’re strolling or pedaling past, you’ll see them reaching for the sun and probably attracting a few bees—and more than a few Instagrammers. Over the past year, people have asked for the big field again. I hear you, but I was figuring some things out. Last year I was all hand tools and we had a killer drought. This year, I’m bringing back the wow factor thanks to my “birthday” present of a rototiller and some actual rain (maybe too much at times) so far this Spring.

I hope the flowers (especially the sunflowers) make you smile. I hope they remind you that beauty can grow from complicated beginnings. And if they stop you in your tracks, I hope you take a moment to enjoy them.

A One-Woman Show

There’s no team here. No crew. No interns named Susan (sorry Momma) who make beautiful spreadsheets and refill your coffee while you deadhead zinnias. It’s just me. Me and the land and the flowers and, on very special days, a well-timed rain system.

So if you see me out there looking tired or sunburned or confused by a shovel, wave. Or say hi. Or yell something encouraging. I may not respond because my music is BLASTING! Trail kindness is real, and I feel it every time someone stops to say, “You’re doing something beautiful here.” I truly cannot tell you how much it means to me. Even the unsolicited advice, the comments on my musculature, my age, or the questions about what my husband does for work (ugh). I think we all move too fast and slowing down to enjoy some nature (even on instagram - @msecurtis btw) can turn your world around.

Photographers, Stay Tuned

If the sunflower field shapes up the way I envision, I’ll be offering hourly photo session bookings for photographers—for a small fee. Think golden-hour lighting, wide open space, and rows of dreamy blooms that don’t require trespassing or coaxing a toddler into standing still for more than four seconds.

Details will be posted on Instagram (@msecurtis) and at the flower stand. No goats in the frame unless requested.

Yes, I Have a Venmo

Is it weird to ask for tips on Venmo? Maybe. Am I doing it anyway? Also yes.

I have been asked to tip for everything lately and most times I’m like, you know what? Yes. I’m all about hard work and how rough this life can be for anyone at any time. Heck. You cannot look at me & know that I have lost 2 of my children to cancer and I am also a widow. Neither of these things are a financial asset. So I lift up my fellow hardworkers and life is toughers…if the spirit moves you…tip away.

Flower farming isn’t free. Seeds, compost, fencing, water, and caffeine all cost something. If my flowers have brightened your walk, lifted your spirits, or made your kid squeal with delight, consider tossing a tip my way. Every little bit helps keep the flowers growing and the dream alive.

Venmo: @msecurtis

And if you’d rather just smile and walk on by? That’s enough too. We are all enough and we are all doing the best we can with what we’ve got. (I’ve got some pent up emotions and a dash of ADHD. You do you.)

From Controversy to Community

This land has a complicated history. What was taken has been transformed. What was painful has grown into something joyful. And what was once just a trail through our family’s fields has become a place of connection.

So thank you for passing through. For noticing the flowers. For cheering on the quiet labor that blooms each season along Mile 10½.

I hope you’ll come back soon.