An injury changed their lives forever. Now, this Loveland couple grows a farm with love
At Boltz to Nutz Farm, there are 43 chickens. One of them is named Gloria. Gloria is partially paralyzed on one side. Her left leg tilts inward ever since a raccoon bit her under her wing. As she goes to move, she falters.
Yvonne Boltz gives the chicken an encouraging nod, and Gloria finds her balance.
“Everyone has a spot here, including our bird of determination,” said Yvonne, who owns and lives on this Loveland farm with her husband, Eric.
Boltz to Nutz Farm is a sustainability-driven farm that uses organic and biodiverse agricultural methods. Their produce is sold on Market Wagon, a service that allows customers to order goodies from local farmers and artisans to be delivered right to their doors.
But at its roots, the farm is something greater. The Boltzes are working to make Boltz to Nutz Farm a getaway spot for people with limited mobility.
They are doing this by installing limestone ramps throughout the farm so wheelchair users can easily move around to pick herbs, visit the greenhouse and gather eggs from the henhouse. Near these ramps will be elevated garden beds so those in wheelchairs can pick the spouting veggies. They also plan to add a dock to the pond so everyone can fish.
But the current shining star of the farm is the kitchen. Here, the counters move up and down to the desired height at the press of a button. Hit a different switch, and the cabinets tilt away from the wall toward you, close enough to reach from a wheelchair or walker. On the table are specialized tools that make it possible for people with limited mobility in their arms and hands to chop, slice, grab.
This month, the kitchen will be on display when the Boltzes offer two classes for people with disabilities.
The first, on Aug. 14, is an "introduction to the kitchen," where the Boltzes and marketing director Abby Marsh will help individuals problem-solve obstacles that prevent them from cooking at home. Then, on Aug. 28, the farm will host its first monthly cooking class. The idea is that folks can learn to prepare dishes and then take home multiple made-ahead meals.
This approach has the advantage of offering significant savings to those who need the oftentimes expensive specialized equipment on hand at the farm to make meal prep easier. That is, the Boltzes can help folks determine what works best for them.
While a lot of their initiatives are focused on creating an accessible environment for people with limited mobility, Yvonne and Eric make clear that the farm is also designed to be a safe haven for anyone who is suffering.
The couple knows firsthand how love can get you through tough times. And now, it’s their turn to put some of that love back in the world.
“You get happiness from helping other people find happiness,” Eric said.
The injury plants the seed
Eric and Yvonne met at a small tech company in Albuquerque in 1996 and instantly made a great team. They share a background inscience, tech and engineering. (Eric has a doctorate in material science while Yvonne has her master's in chemistry.)
Occasionally, the two would work on trade shows together. They soon found out that Yvonne’s extroverted personality complemented Eric’s soft-spoken side.
The friendship blossomed into something more after they moved to the Cincinnati area to work for the same company in West Chester.
In 2005, the couple bought the company and became co-owners. Roughly around this time, the duo also began to date. Soon enough, Eric proposed to Yvonne, and on the Sunday after Thanksgiving, the lovebirds married at the Iron Horse in Glendale.
Together, they ran, and eventually sold, their successful business. Outside of work, Eric was a competitive cyclist, and Yvonne was his cheerleader. They had two kids, Max and Kay, and worked hard to create the kind of home where their kids’ friends were always welcome.
But on the evening of September 24, 2015, their idyllic lives changed.
It started out to be a normal day. It was about 74 degrees outside, with a clear sky and rising humidity.
Eric was on a routine cycling trip, a 30-mile loop to downtown Cincinnati and back to his home in Madeira,something he'd done countless times before.
When he reached the intersection of Erie Ave. and Delta Ave. in Hyde Park, he moved to get into the left lane to pass a stopped bus. He looked around him and proceeded. He cleared the intersection and went to make eye contact with the bus driver. He was safe, he thought.
Suddenly, a driver coming the other way turned left. But the turn was short.
Yvonne was at home making meatloaf when she got the call.
“You need to get to UC hospital right now,” the medic on scene told her. They had identified her husband by his Road ID.
She was seven minutes behind the ambulance and her husband, as they drove to the trauma center in Clifton.
When she got there, Eric was already having a CAT scan done.
The doctor later told Yvonne her husband had no brain damage but there was less than a 10% chance he would ever walk again.
Eric told Yvonne he knew how these things went. He knew he would be angry and resentful, that he would try to destroy their marriage. That it would be over.
But Yvonne refused to accept this version of their reality. She had supported her husband at every cycling race, in their jobs, in every part of life. She wasn’t going to stop now.
“He’s still him,” she said.
That night, the couple made a pact to continue loving each other unconditionally. Yes, there may be some sorrow and some anger, but they knew they couldn’t control what happened, but to only do their best to handle the change.
A little over a month later, when Eric got home from the hospital, the couple's ninth wedding anniversary was fast approaching. With Eric recovering, there would be no fancy dinner or a special night out. Yvonne tried to think what she could do.
And while the two snuggled in his at-home twin-sized hospital bed, she asked him if he would marry her again.
It was Eric's turn to say yes.
The idea sprouts
The Boltzes' new life wasn’t easy. Eric had suffered a T3 complete spinal cord lesion. In lay terms, Eric can't move anything from the bottom of his pectoral muscles down. Their house, which hadn't been made accessible, barely felt like a home anymore.
But they knew they could adapt and started looking for a new place to live. In 2019, their real estate agent found them an 11-acre plot of land in Loveland.
The plan was to build an accessible home from scratch. They figured they’d have a few gardens. Maybe a handful of plots for Max, who had always been drawn to nature and working with hishands.
But after days outside enjoying the land, breathing in the soil, looking at the pond, and admiring sunsets, the couple decided to share it. They had money from the company they sold back in 2015 and, unlike a lot of others, could afford the newest and most helpful tools that made accessibility easier.
This was an opportunity to provide a safe harbor to anyone who is hurting.
“Everyone is in need of some solid ground from time to time,” Eric said.
They decided to call it Boltz to Nutz Farm to play on the phrase “soup to nuts,” because they wanted to do a little bit of everything there.
The duo started with some chickens. When they realized the chickens needed protection from predators, they adopted two large Great Pyrenees dogs, Rio and Tinto. When they picked up the puppies, they saw sheep, and brought home some lambs.
They invited people to work on the farm who felt like they needed some time to figure out their lives. These workers came from all over with various backgrounds and upbringings.
The seeds for the farm had sprouted.
The farm blossoms
Today, the two Great Pyrenees puppies are all fluffy, friendly, almost-bear-sized dogs. They protect the chickens and give lots of love (and some slobber) to anyone visiting their farm. They take a special liking to wheelchairs. As Eric and Yvonne move around the farm, the dogs put their heads on Eric’s lap.
The puppies aren’t the only things that have grown and prospered.
In the farm area, squash, corn and beans are inching higher from the ground. Workers, it seems, have found peace.
The other day, marketing director Marsh, 27, who suffered a cervical spinal cord injury,was able to use a cheese grater for the first time in 10 years.
Afterward, her face lit up.
"These are the moments," Eric said, "that we live for."
This article originally appeared on Cincinnati Enquirer: Why Loveland's Boltz to Nutz Farm is an accessible getaway
