Meet Wendy Gail: Life in the Heart of Kansas

I’m Wendy Gail—Texas‑born, California‑ and Utah‑raised—but I felt a pull toward the place where my family’s history runs deep, and where the wide‑open prairie felt like home. In 2012, I finally followed that pull. I loaded up the horses, packed everything I owned, and headed straight for the middle of Kansas.

What started as a simple move slowly became a full‑blown farm life education. Over time, my little homestead grew to include a lively mix of chickens, goats, a gentle giant of a livestock guardian dog, a tiny mini dachshund with a big personality, and a handful of cats who think they run the place. I learned how to build fences of every kind, how to buy hay in 2,000‑pound round bales, how to bid at farm and livestock sales, and that farmers visit the feed store three times more often than the grocery store. I learned what a scoop shovel was—and why you always need one.

Most days you’ll find me outside: doing chores, fixing fences, mowing grass, or pausing just long enough to take in the quiet beauty of the prairie. When winter settles in and the Kansas wind cuts sharp, I turn indoors and put our surplus of fresh goat milk to work. That’s when the kitchen fills with the scent of simmering lotions, rich creams, and slow‑cured soap. It’s also when I make the treats my kids love most—goat milk cheese, caramels, and ice cream.

I’m a mom to three and a grandma to six—three boys and three girls—who all live far too many miles away. But the rhythm of small‑town life has finally become mine. Kansas has a way of settling into your bones: sunsets that stretch forever, fields of sunflowers turning their faces to the light, prairies so flat you can watch a storm roll in from miles away. The smell of milo in the fields, fresh alfalfa in the barn, bierrocks at the county fair, and—yes—cinnamon rolls served with chili. I still miss my Utah mountains and the deep winter snow, and I’ll never get used to tornado season. When the sirens sound, I head for the basement while the true Kansans head for the porch.

Everything I make carries a piece of this life—simple, heartfelt, and rooted in the land I love. PONY LAKE FARM isn’t just where I live. It’s the story behind every bar of soap, every lotion, every small‑batch good that leaves my kitchen table and finds its way into someone else’s home.