08/28/2026
Introducing KINDRED
There are places you can look at in a photograph and understand.
Kindred isn’t one of them.
You have to walk into it.
Stand beneath it.
Look around.
Touch the wood.
And realize what you are actually standing inside.
Because Kindred was never supposed to exist.
When I first began building this space, I called it The Ruins of the Great Hall. I thought I was building something that looked as though it had once stood here long ago—a forgotten gathering place slowly reclaimed by the forest.
But as I placed the final pieces, I stepped back and realized something.
This wasn’t a ruin at all.
Everywhere I looked, I saw life.
The massive trunks. The crooked branches. The scarred pieces of wood. Limbs from different trees that had fallen at different times and in different places.
Pieces that had been left on the forest floor.
Pieces most people would have cut up, burned, hauled away or simply stepped over.
And somehow, here, they belonged together.
That is when this place told me its name.
KINDRED
Kindred means connected.
Related not necessarily because you came from the same place, but because something deeper has brought you together.
And I couldn't think of a better word for what I had built—or for what happens at a wedding.
Look closely at Kindred.
Pieces from completely different trees—trees that could never have grown together in life—now stand together as though they were always meant to.
What was grown different, what was separated, what fell apart… became part of the same tree again.
And isn't there something beautifully familiar about that?
Two people arrive with different stories.
Two families arrive with different histories.
Friends come from different places and different chapters of their lives.
Some meet for the very first time.
Then a couple says “I do.”
And afterward, everyone comes here.
Drinks are poured.
Glasses are raised.
Food is shared.
Stories are told.
Strangers introduce themselves.
Families laugh together.
And for those few hours, all those separate branches become something new.
Kindred.
That is what makes this place different.
It wasn't ordered from a catalog.
It wasn't designed to look like another wedding venue.
There will never be another one exactly like it, because I couldn't build another one exactly like it if I tried.
Nature made every piece. I simply listened to where each one wanted to go.
The Enchanted Nest itself began with land that had been neglected and left to decay. Fallen trees and forgotten pieces were everywhere.
But I've learned something while building this place:
Being fallen doesn't mean your story is finished.
Five old stumps could become part of a Celtic cross.
A fallen tree could become something people stop to photograph.
Branches that would normally become firewood could become windows.
And pieces of trees that never shared the same roots could someday stand together and shelter the celebration of two families becoming one.
Maybe that's why Kindred feels so alive.
It isn't a replica of something old.
It is a second story.
And now it gets to become part of yours.
So when you see this video, understand that you're only seeing wood, branches and photographs on a screen.
To understand Kindred, you have to experience it.
You have to walk through those trees, climb those steps, pass beneath that doorway and stand in the middle of something that simply shouldn't exist anywhere else.
And perhaps one day, you'll raise a glass here surrounded by the people you love, look around and realize—
your story has become one of the stories these trees will carry next.
Welcome to KINDRED at The Enchanted Nest.
Where separate branches become one story.
The Enchanted Nest
