We’d heard about Tiny Acres out near Monmouth, but driving down that long country road for the first time felt a little like we’d taken a wrong turn into someone’s private farm lane. Then the trees opened up, the pond came into view, and suddenly there was this whole little event world laid out in front of us.
First time at Tiny Acres (and yes, the Wi‑Fi works out there)
This was a private corporate night for 1870 Holdings Company, the parent company of Porter-Hay Insurance and a few other businesses. Everyone there already knew each other from work; we were just there to give them something to talk over, and maybe sing along with later.
The place itself is impressive. There’s the 1850s ceremony barn up on the hill, looking over the pond, with rows of chairs set up like it’s permanently five minutes before a wedding. There’s an overnight cabin, outdoor spaces with grills and picnic tables, and the main event building where we played. You can tell somebody actually thought about how people move through this place.
We did have a brief, very modern musician panic on the drive in: are we going to have enough internet out here to run our stuff? Answer: absolutely. The signal was as strong as what we get at home, which was a relief and also a little funny considering we were surrounded by cornfields.
Finding our spot to set up
PJ, who owns Tiny Acres, met us as soon as we arrived and suggested a spot that put us just off to one side, near a door that turned out to be our dream load‑in: we literally rolled the gear ten feet from the car to the stage area. Musicians never forget a door like that.
Once we got set up and sound‑checked, we realized this room was built with sound in mind. No weird slapback echo, no dead zone at the far end. People could be standing at the bar and still hear the music clearly, but we never felt like we were blasting anyone out of their chairs. It’s rare that a long, rectangular room feels that balanced, and this one did.
From background music to a room that leaned in
The event had a very laid‑back flow. There was a converted Airstream food truck parked outside doing dinner, people drifting in and out, coworkers catching up with each other. We started in pure “let people talk” mode—familiar covers, nothing that demanded attention, just giving the room a soundtrack while everyone grabbed a drink and found their tables.
As the night went on, you could feel that gradual shift when a corporate event stops being just networking and starts to feel like an actual hangout. By the time we hit “Amie” by Pure Prairie League, the room was with us. Our friend Amy was there, and as soon as she heard the intro she grabbed her stool, dragged it right in front of us, and sat down grinning. We basically got to sing “Amie” directly to Amy, which cracked everyone up and turned into one of those unplanned little moments that everyone could enjoy.
The “Gin and Juice” detour
Somewhere later in the night, someone tossed out a request for “Gin and Juice.” Not exactly in the Bell & Field standard catalog. I gave it a shot anyway—one verse, acoustic, very tongue‑in‑cheek—then stopped, laughed, and admitted that was probably as far as I could responsibly take it. That one verse got a bigger reaction than some full songs, and it reminded me how sometimes you don’t have to nail a request to make it fun; you just have to meet people halfway.
People, details, and a good drive home
In between sets we had time to step outside, look over the pond toward that old barn, and just take in how much care has gone into the place. PJ and the whole Tiny Acres crew were easy to work with all night—checking in, making sure we had what we needed, but never hovering.
By the end of the two hours, what started as pure background music had turned into something more like a shared hang. People were still talking shop here and there, but there was also real listening, and those little in‑jokes that only happen when coworkers finally get to relax together.
We packed up through that magic load‑in door, said our goodbyes, and headed back down the long road to Monmouth. On the way out of town, we hit Taco Bell, debriefed the night, and started game‑planning our show at Tres Rojas Winery the next day. It’s hard not to feel lucky when your “work meeting” is about playing songs you love and eating bean burritos and tacos.
Tiny Acres made a strong first impression on us: beautiful grounds, a long room that actually sounds good, easy logistics, solid internet in the middle of nowhere, and a staff that clearly cares. When PJ said he’d like to have us back, we were quite happy.
If you’re putting together a company night or private gathering and want live music that can start in the background and step forward when the time is right, we’d be glad to talk. You can reach us here: bellandfieldmusic.com/book-acoustic-duo/.
Some Saturday nights are for squeezing into a crowded room and shouting over the music. This one at Tiny Acres is the opposite. It’s a work thing, a corporate night out, where people will probably be trying to finish a conversation they started in a meeting three months ago.
