Spring Has Sprung (and We Have the Mud on Our Boots to Prove it!)

The Close: A Christian Retreat | Spring 2026

Winter, we appreciate you. Really, we do. You gave us cozy fires, quiet mornings, and a very good excuse to drink hot coffee at all hours. But you've overstayed your welcome, and frankly? Spring showed up, knocked on the door, and winter packed its bags. We are not sad about it.

Here's everything that's been happening at The Close as the property shakes off the cold and gets back to its glorious self.

The Birds Are Back and They Have Opinions

Somewhere around early March, a robin landed outside our window and began announcing himself at approximately 7 a.m. Every morning. Without fail. Loud as a smoke alarm, proud as a peacock.

And you know what? We couldn't even be mad. Because close behind him came the wrens, the finches, the woodpeckers, and what we can only describe as the full spring choir — warming up, tuning up, and performing whether anyone asked for a concert or not. The property sounds alive right now in a way that honestly makes it hard to stay indoors. If you sit still long enough on one of the porches, it feels less like noise and more like worship. Just with more feathers.

Wildflowers: Tiny, Stubborn, and Absolutely Showing Off

They didn't ask permission. They didn't check the forecast. They just... appeared. One week the ground was brown and tired-looking, and the next — color. Little wildflowers popping up along the paths, the fence lines, the low meadow spots, and basically anywhere they felt like it.

We respect the audacity. There's a sermon in there somewhere about persistence and hope and blooming right where you're planted. We'll let you draw your own conclusions. We're just here admiring the view.

The Mower Has Been Awakened

Every spring, there is a ritual at The Close. It begins with someone walking out to where the mower has been sleeping since November, pulling back the tarp, and saying something like, "Alright, friend. Time to earn your keep."

This year was no different. Blades checked. Oil changed. Battery coaxed back to life with the particular blend of patience and stubbornness that only property maintenance can produce. And then — that sound. The engine turning over, the smell of cut grass, the satisfying back-and-forth across a field that was starting to look a little too wild for polite company.

The grounds are looking sharp. We're proud of them. The mower is too, probably.

Generator Season: The Unsung Heroes of Retreat Life

Nobody ever arrives at a retreat and says, "Wow, the generators are running beautifully." And that is exactly the goal. We have been testing, servicing, and fine-tuning every generator on the property so that the electricity works the way electricity should — reliably and without drama.

It's the kind of behind-the-scenes work that makes everything else possible: the worship that runs late into the evening and the kitchen humming along at breakfast. We think of it as preparation as an act of faith. Do the work. Trust the rest.

Things Are Getting Busy Around Here (In the Best Way)

Spring has a way of sending people toward this place, and we are so here for it.

The calendar is filling. Groups are booking. Programs are being planned. There is an energy on this property right now that feels like a deep breath in — like anticipation before something good. We can't wait to see who walks through the gate this season and what they carry home with them when they leave.

About Those Sunrises Though

We need to have a serious conversation about the skies at The Close this spring, because they have been showing off.

The sunrises have been the kind that stop you in the middle of carrying something to somewhere, plant your feet, and make you forget what you were doing entirely. Golds and pinks and that particular shade of early-morning orange that doesn't have a good name but that you recognize immediately as holy.

And the sunsets? Long. Slow. Lavender turning to deep rose turning to that bruised purple that hangs on the horizon just long enough for you to feel like you caught something rare. We've had staff members go quiet in the middle of conversations just to watch. We consider that a feature, not a distraction.

You really do have to see them for yourself. We cannot do them justice.

The Browns Have Babies and We Are Completely Undone

Alright. Here it is. The news we have been waiting to share.

For those new to The Close — meet the Browns. They are our resident deer family, named with great affection and zero irony, and they have been a beloved part of this property for years. They wander the fields at dawn, appear at the wood line in the evenings, and have a long history of photobombing outdoor retreats in the most delightful way possible.

This spring, the Brown family has welcomed new members.

The fawns are here. Baby Browns, brand new to the world, still figuring out how legs work, spotted and impossibly small and so absurdly precious that we have been rendered temporarily useless upon spotting them. You're just walking to the equipment shed and suddenly — fawn — and now twenty minutes have passed and you've forgotten everything you were supposed to do and you don't even care.

We believe the Browns are here on purpose. There is something about new life on sacred ground that feels like more than coincidence. It feels like God's way of saying, Yes. This. Right here. Pay attention.

We're paying attention.

Come See All of This Yourself

We've done our best to describe it — the birdsong, the blooms, the sunsets, the baby deer wobbling across the meadow. But honestly? You just have to come.

Spring at The Close is the kind of thing that has to be experienced. The smell of the air. The sound of the property at night. The particular quiet that settles over this land and does something to the noise inside you that nothing else quite manages.

Whether you need a weekend to breathe, a space to plan, a place to pray, or just a morning where you can watch a fawn take its first shaky steps across a dewy field — we have that for you.

The mower is running. The cabins are clean. The Browns are out with their babies.

Come on over.