05/09/2026
Here's a look at what I do when I'm not helping my clients.
“Fleur de Bee” sounds like the kind of place you'd expect to see on a polished farmhouse Instagram page with spotless boots, staged coffee mugs, and chickens that somehow never step in mud.
That is not Fleur de Bee.
Fleur de Bee is equal parts homestead, construction zone, therapy session, wildlife sanctuary, and unfinished project. Some days it smells like fresh cut wood and homemade cooking. Other days it smells like wet feed, dirt, and whatever bad decision Kyle started building in the shop that week.
The name itself actually started pretty simply. Nicole wanted something with a Louisiana touch that still felt personal and different. Kyle wanted bees and planned to eventually build an apiary. Somewhere between Cajun influence, homestead dreams, sarcasm, and “we’ll figure it out,” Fleur de Bee was born.
“Fleur” brought the Louisiana influence and personality Nicole wanted. “Bee” came from Kyle wanting an apiary and probably underestimating how much work bees actually are. The name sounds intentional. Because it was. It just came together the same way most things on the property do: half planning, half improvisation, and fueled by stubbornness.
Somehow, the property ended up fitting the name perfectly.
You’ve got peafowl wandering around like they own the place, ducks arguing over absolutely nothing, chickens escaping containment like tiny feathery convicts, and at least one turkey that apparently looked death in the face and said, “Nah.”
Then there’s Kyle.
A retired Marine turned REALTOR® who somehow spends his free time building fences with enough posts to secure a military installation while simultaneously saying things like: “I just want a simpler life.”
Meanwhile, his version of “simple” somehow includes future apiaries, woodworking projects, fishing setups, pasture planning, smart automation ideas, boat concepts that sound partially seaworthy, and DIY projects that start at 9 AM and somehow become existential crises by 11 PM.
Nicole, on the other hand, is basically the operational command center of the property.
Kyle might build something. Nicole determines whether it was actually a good idea.
That balance is probably the only reason the place functions.
Because Fleur de Bee isn't some polished influencer homestead where everybody wears spotless linen shirts while gathering eggs into wicker baskets.
It's real.
Sometimes the animals are muddy. Sometimes projects sit unfinished. Sometimes something breaks five minutes after being “fixed.” Sometimes one of the birds acts emotionally unstable for no identifiable reason.
And somehow that’s exactly what makes the place feel alive.
The best part is what started as Kyle’s retirement dream slowly became something they built together. Rugged, chaotic, sarcastic, sentimental, and still very much in progress. Started with a plan and have been adjusting on the fly ever since.
Honestly, that’s probably the most accurate description of Fleur de Bee there is.
