From Bare Earth to Sacred Table — The Journey to House of Mi-Rin

When we first set foot on this land in Yea, there was nothing but open earth, wild grass, and an unexplainable pull — a sense that something sacred wanted to be created here. Today, as we stand on the cusp of launching our website and opening House of Mi-Rin to the world, I’m reminded of the countless small moments that led us here: the early sunrises spent planting seeds, our goats learning our voices, the first fermented jar placed gently in an onggi, and the many nights we fell asleep dreaming of a place where nature, nourishment, and stillness could coexist.

Mi-Rin Farm grew before the buildings did. Snow peas climbed first. Radishes pushed through the cool soil. Dill perfumed the air. Our dairy cow, Iza, arrived with her calm brown eyes — and then we welcomed baby Ping, on an auspicious day that felt like a blessing from the land itself. Every jar of cheong, every batch of miso, every pot of broth simmered in our kitchen carries the essence of this place: organic, pesticide-free produce grown just a minute’s walk from the stove. Zero food miles. High-prana food. Ingredients harvested at their peak and cooked while still warm with life.

House of Mi-Rin is built with hands and heart — Shou Sugi Ban walls that honour fire, quartzite stone that grounds the space, Japanese tubs infused with herbs we sowed and harvested ourselves, and rooms that feel calm the moment you step in. We’ve learned new skills faster than we ever thought possible — farming, fermenting, milking, cooking, managing a team — not because we had to, but because this place demanded devotion, respect, and presence.

As we prepare to welcome guests and open our bookings, we are filled with deep gratitude. This is more than a retreat. More than a dining room. More than a farm.It is a story — one written with soil, rain, spirit, and seasonality.

And soon, through our website, that story will be yours to enter.