Why I Named Our Home Rockwell Farm

Every home tells a story.

Ours just took a few decades to fully unfold.

The name Rockwell Farm didn’t come from owning acres of farmland or running a large agricultural operation. It came from something much simpler - a lifelong love of making a home, growing food, and living close to the rhythms of family and land.

But the story begins 40 miles from Ridgefield.

A Girl from Queens

I grew up in Queens, New York, surrounded by a large Italian family and parents who came to this country searching for a better life. My mother was a seamstress. My father was an upholsterer — and a baker at heart. In our home, the lesson was simple: you learned how to do things yourself.Clothes were sewn. Furniture was repaired. Bread was baked. Nothing was wasted, and creativity was part of everyday life. My grandparents kept an incredible garden that provided fruits and vegetables for the entire family. Tomatoes, peppers, herbs, beans — everything seemed to grow there.

At the time, I didn’t realize how special it was. It was simply the way we lived. But those memories stayed with me.

Raising a Family

After I married my husband, we moved to Chappaqua, New York — a beautiful, bucolic town where we raised our three children.
It was a wonderful chapter of our lives. I spent many years working at our church as the Coordinator of Religious Education while raising our kids and staying deeply involved in our community and faith.

But somewhere in the background, a quiet longing remained. I wanted a garden. I dreamed about chickens wandering through the yard. I imagined a kitchen where bread could rise on the counter and vegetables from the garden could be canned for winter. Those dreams were rooted in the childhood I had known.

Finding Ridgefield

When we eventually moved to Ridgefield, Connecticut, something immediately felt right. Ridgefield has a special balance — a vibrant town community surrounded by beautiful land and history. And then we found our home. A beautiful Queen Anne Victorian with a wraparound porch and just the right amount of land.It was perfect for chickens. Perfect for a garden.

Creating Rockwell Farm

Over time, we began shaping our home into something that felt deeply personal. We designed and built my dream kitchen — a space made for cooking, baking bread, preserving vegetables from the garden, and gathering with family and friends.The garden grew. Chickens arrived. Bread started baking regularly. Slowly, almost without realizing it, the life I had dreamed about was happening. It isn’t a farm in the traditional sense. But it feels like one to me. So, I began calling our home Rockwell Farm, named for the road where our home sits here in Ridgefield.

What Rockwell Farm Means to Me

Rockwell Farm is where bread rises on the counter. Where vegetables grow in the garden. Where chickens wander through the yard. Where friends leave with jars of sourdough starter and fresh eggs.  It’s where the lessons I learned growing up in Queens — from immigrant parents and gardening grandparents — have come full circle. It’s not about farming. It’s about home. And this little corner of Ridgefield is where that story continues to grow.

From my kitchen at Rockwell Farm,

-Lina