Personal Diary

If you’d told me a few years ago that Corey and I would be running a cider brewery — and spending the week before Christmas installing roller blinds instead of wrapping presents — I probably would’ve laughed. Back then, we were both juggling day jobs, brewing small batches on weekends, and dreaming big about what could be. Now, standing in the middle of our dusty, half-renovated tasting room, with the smell of apples and paint mingling in the air, I can honestly say: we wouldn’t change a thing.

But I’ll admit — the past few months have tested every ounce of our patience, creativity, and budget.

The Red Brick Dream

We started Red Brick Road Cider three years ago, on a little property just outside Hahndorf. There’s an old red-brick driveway that winds up to our shed — that’s where the name came from. I remember when we first pressed our own apples there, just a backyard experiment really, and thought, this could be something special.

Our friends agreed. Every barbecue, every get-together, they’d ask, “Have you brought the cider?” Before long, people started slipping us twenty-dollar notes for bottles we’d made in recycled wine jugs. It was half embarrassing, half exhilarating. We were hooked.

Corey’s the practical one — an engineer by trade, always measuring, adjusting, improving. I’m the dreamer — marketing background, head full of ideas and social media strategies. Together, we made a good team. When the pandemic slowed everything else down, it sped us up. We threw ourselves into cider-making full-time and launched our first commercial batch under the Red Brick Road label.

The Space We Outgrew

Fast-forward to this year. Our cider was doing better than we’d ever dared hope. Local stockists were calling. We started offering tasting sessions on weekends. The old shed that once felt too big suddenly wasn’t big enough.

We decided to expand — a proper brewing setup, a refurbished tasting room, and, most importantly for me, a small office space with actual walls instead of a folding table in the corner. I wanted a space that felt like us — rustic, warm, but functional. Somewhere I could take meetings, design labels, and write newsletters without the glare of the afternoon sun bouncing off my laptop screen.

The Australian summer isn’t kind to cider-makers. Or anyone with west-facing windows, for that matter. Our office and tasting area get full sun from midday until it sets, and by 3 p.m. it turns into a greenhouse. Even the cider gets cranky if it’s too warm.

The Budget Reality Check

If you’ve ever done renovations, you’ll know that no matter how carefully you plan, something always costs more than you expect. We’d saved, fundraised, and reinvested every spare cent from our last season — but by the time the new stainless tanks arrived, our “finishing touches” fund had shrunk alarmingly.

We were staring down the barrel of December. Cider orders were piling up, tourists were planning summer getaways, and we desperately needed to be open in time for the Christmas and New Year’s rush. The tasting room still needed flooring, furniture, and window coverings. Something had to give.

For a while, we convinced ourselves that blinds weren’t urgent. “We can live with the heat,” Corey said one morning, wiping sweat off his brow. “At least until we’ve caught up financially.”

But by the second week of December, with the thermometer hitting 36°C and our office computer overheating daily, I knew it wasn’t sustainable. We needed shade — fast.

Finding a DIY Fix

That’s when I stumbled across My Direct Blinds.

I’d been scrolling through options online one night, probably later than I should have been, trying to find something affordable but not tacky. Everything decent seemed out of our price range — until I landed on their site. It was refreshingly straightforward: measure, order online, install it yourself.

Normally, “DIY” would make me nervous, but by that point, Corey and I had sanded, painted, plumbed, and wired our way through every other part of the renovation. Roller blinds? Please. We were practically pros by now.

We ordered a set of DIY Roller Blinds for the office and tasting area — blockout ones for the west-facing wall and a couple of light-filtering blinds for the windows behind the bar, where we still wanted that soft, golden light to come through. The price difference compared to custom installations was staggering — hundreds saved per window. That alone sealed the deal.

The Christmas Countdown

The blinds arrived just a week before Christmas. It felt like a sign — or maybe just a small victory from the renovation gods. I still remember opening the boxes, half expecting a tangle of parts and cryptic instructions. But everything was neatly packed, clearly labeled, and surprisingly simple.

“Think we can do it before lunch?” Corey joked.

We did it by lunch.

I handled the measuring and leveling (thank you, My Direct Blinds measuring guide), and Corey did the drilling. By the time we rolled down the first blind, the temperature in the office dropped instantly. You could feel the difference. The harsh sun glare disappeared, replaced by a soft, even light that made the room actually pleasant to be in.

I nearly cried — partly from relief, partly from exhaustion.

It wasn’t just the comfort. It was the feeling of progress, the satisfaction of seeing something finally finished after months of chaos. That moment — standing in our little office, blinds down, music playing from Corey’s dusty Bluetooth speaker — felt like a turning point.

Finishing the Race

Christmas Eve came faster than expected. While most people were wrapping gifts and heading to the coast, we were mopping floors and hanging signage. But the brewery finally looked like a place ready to welcome people again. The Red Brick Road Cider logo shone proudly on the wall, the tasting room gleamed, and the roller blinds — those simple, affordable blinds — made the whole space look polished and intentional.

On Christmas morning, we didn’t exchange presents. We didn’t have time. But we did sit outside the brewery, two cups of cold cider in hand, watching the sun rise over the orchard. I remember turning to Corey and saying, “We did it. Somehow.”

He smiled and said, “You did it. I just drilled the holes.”

Opening Day and Lessons Learned

Our first open weekend after renovations was chaotic in the best way. Locals poured in, curious about the new space. Tourists from Adelaide wandered in, following the scent of apples and live music. The feedback was overwhelming — people loved the space, the light, the way it felt cool even on a 38°C day.

“Feels like you’re sitting inside an apple tree,” one woman said, fanning herself with the tasting menu.

I laughed, thinking about how much of that comfort came down to those blinds. It’s funny — we’d spent months worrying about big-ticket items: fermenters, signage, marketing campaigns. But the thing that made the biggest everyday difference was something so simple, so practical, and so achievable.

Since then, I’ve become a bit of a DIY convert. When people ask how we pulled off the renovation without going broke, I tell them the truth: we learned to do things ourselves, and we learned to compromise without sacrificing style.

My Direct Blinds was a part of that — a small detail that helped us finish what we started. And sometimes, that’s all it takes to keep a dream alive through the tough seasons.

Reflections from the Red Brick Road

Now, a few months on, I can finally step back and see how far we’ve come.

Our brewery is thriving. The tasting room hosts regular events — from acoustic nights to cider-pairing dinners. The office is my sanctuary: cool, calm, and shaded from the relentless Australian sun. The DIY blinds are still going strong, and every time I roll them up in the morning, I feel a quiet pride.

People often assume small business owners have it all figured out — that we’re fearless entrepreneurs who never doubt ourselves. The truth is, most days, we’re just trying to keep the plates spinning. We face budget blowouts, sleepless nights, and the occasional identity crisis. But there’s a strange kind of magic in it too — in making something real from nothing but passion and persistence.

Corey and I joke that cider-making and renovation have a lot in common. Both require patience, both involve unexpected messes, and both teach you that good things take time to ferment. You can’t rush the process, but you can get creative along the way.

A Summer to Remember

Last summer nearly broke us, but it also brought out the best in us. The Red Brick Road story isn’t about overnight success — it’s about adaptability, teamwork, and small victories that keep you going.

When I walk into the office now, the sunlight filters gently through those blinds, casting soft lines across my desk. It’s a reminder that even when money’s tight and time’s short, there’s always a way to make something work — you just have to look for it.

Every visitor who comes through the tasting room gets the full sensory experience: the crisp scent of apple, the hum of chatter, the view of the orchard outside, and that subtle shade that makes the space feel cool and welcoming. They don’t know about the nights we spent worrying about cash flow, or the argument we had over paint colours, or how close we came to delaying the opening. They just see the finished product — and that’s exactly how we want it.

Looking Ahead

We’re already dreaming up our next step: a cider garden where people can sit under festoon lights, sipping fresh blends straight from the keg. Maybe even a seasonal cider made with Christmas plums or local honey. But one thing’s for sure — whatever we build next, we’ll build it together, one DIY project at a time.

Because if there’s one thing the past year taught us, it’s that success isn’t just about making great cider. It’s about resourcefulness, community, and having the courage to keep going when the odds are stacked against you.

So, here’s to summer shade, cold cider, and little victories that make the journey worth it.

Cheers,
Karina
Red Brick Road Cider