A very long
love story
Hey! We're so glad you're here. If you're here, we're probably related or friends. I don't expect many more people than that will be too interested in what we've got going on.
BUT…
If you are new here, this is the very short version of our story.
We met in college. It really was love at first sight. Well, more like love-at-first-hit-my-nose-on-his-chest-because-we-were-crammed-in-a-tiny-kitchen-at-a-house-party-and-I-turned-around-and-smacked-right-into-him. A true meet-cute.
We got married in 2012. Wide-eyed, naive like everyone. Hoping this was going to be the fresh start we both desperately needed after the chaos we'd experienced the previous few years.
We thought we'd have a houseful of kids by thirty.
Instead, we had thirteen years of waiting.
Infertility. Miscarriages. Failed IVF. Adoptions that fell through at the last minute. A lot of pain, a lot of hoping, a lot of praying, and a lot of hard, quiet conversations in the car on the way home from another appointment. I won't walk you through every detail of those years — they're ours, and some of them still hurt — but I'll say this: for a long time, we were a family of two who desperately wanted to be a family of more.
And then one day we decided to stop waiting. We made peace with being Norris, party of two.
The farm
We packed up our two elderly dogs, made career pivots, and moved home. I grew up in Arkansas, and my grandfather had land — beautiful, rolling, creek-bottom country with deer and geese and the kind of quiet that settles into your bones. He sold us ten acres. We put a 480-square-foot tiny house on it. We decided that if we weren't going to have the life we'd planned, we were at least going to have a good one.
We got a mini cow. Then chickens. Then two Great Pyrenees puppies to guard everything else we'd get. Then goats. Then pigs. Then turkeys. My uncle gifted us a mini horse. We tore down the old house that was there. It was completely uninhabitable unfortunately. We started restoring the hundred-year-old barn that came with the property. We ate our farm fresh eggs. We slow-danced in the moonlight and watched the stars.
For the first time in years, we were content. Really content. Not waiting-for-something content. Just — this is our life, and it is good.
The call
On January 1st, 2026 — the first day of a brand new year — my husband got a phone call.
A baby girl was about to be born. She needed parents.
Her name is Savannah. She is the most perfect, beautiful, precious little girl, and she turned three months old the week I started writing this. Most of her story isn't mine to tell — it belongs to her, and to her birth family, whom we love. But here's the part that's ours: after thirteen years, the waiting ended. After thirteen years, we became parents.
She is our joy. She is our whole heart. She is our answered prayer.
Why we're writing
Prairie Creek Adventures is where we document our life. Real and ordinary and a little bit magical.
Farm days and recipes from my family's history.
The slow restoration of a vintage camper I'm calling June Bug.
My thoughts on adoption — never as the "face" of anything, never using our daughter as a poster child, but honestly, because adoption is underrepresented, widely misunderstood, and it deserves a place in the conversation.
My husband and I lead a Celebrate Recovery ministry at our church, and our faith is woven into everything we are.
Also: I'm a writer. I've been working on a little series of children's stories featuring a character named Savvy Bunny, which is what I call our girl sometimes. That'll find its home here too, eventually.
And next year, I'm planting wildflowers. A whole field of them. For picking, for bouquets, for anyone who needs reminding that beautiful things still come out of the ground.
Who we are
Kayla — I'm the writer. ADHD, a little scattered, deeply creative, a little too loud. I do standup comedy for fun sometimes. I've had great success and bombed miserably. I love it every time no matter what. I love good food, old stories, and watching the animals figure out who's in charge each morning. I'm the one who will probably show up in most of the posts around here.
David — My husband. An elder law attorney. Quiet where I am loud, methodical where I am chaotic, and somehow the perfect complement to me. Our marriage got so much better after we understood how his autistic brain works. You can even order his Bible study journal designed for those on the spectrum here. He'll show up here sometimes, and when he does, you're in for a treat.
Savannah — Our girl. Three months old as of this writing. The inspiration.
What we hope
If you're here because you love homesteads — welcome. If you're here because you love to cook — welcome. If you're here because you're in year eleven of infertility and you needed to read something from someone who's been there — friend, I see you. Welcome. If you're here because you've found yourself in a difficult NT/ND marriage — welcome.
We are not an influencer family. We are not trying to be the picture-perfect farm. I can't imagine being in a place to think about editing every picture to be "just so." We are two people who were stuck, decided to live, and then got surprised by the most beautiful life we could have imagined.
Our one-word theme, if we had to pick one, is hope. That's it. That's the whole thing.
So pull up a chair. Pour yourself some sweet tea or lemonade. Stay a while. Let's talk about recipes and chickens and camper restorations and the way light falls across the back pasture in October. Let's talk about hard things and easy things and Savannah's latest chubby-armed accomplishment. Let's talk about what we're reading and what we're cooking and what we're learning.
We're so glad you're here.
