I’ve been growing medicine most of my life — long before I ever thought to call it that.
For over thirty years, I’ve grown medicinal herbs, heirloom vegetables, and just about every sunflower I could get my hands on, along with her bright, faithful sister, the zinnia.
Most of it I grew from seed, not because I had to, but for the sheer joy of watching life rise up out of the soil. I scattered those seeds everywhere I lived — gardens I stayed in for years and some I only passed through — leaving pieces of myself growing long after I’d gone.
Now I’m tucked into a forest at the base of a mountain, and I’m growing more medicine than I ever have before. The land here is generous. The plants have room to speak. I grow natives alongside the herbs, letting them teach each other, and I’ve spent years giving away plants and dried herbs to anyone who needed them. That part came easy. It always has.
What surprised me was the moment the world answered back.
I walked into a local café one day and started talking about medicinal teas — not selling, just sharing — and I told her how I grow medicine. By hand. Slowly. With care. And instead of polite nods, there was real interest. Interest in medicine that was grown right here. Interest in herbs that had a relationship with the land they came from.
That’s when I started dreaming.
I started listing. Writing. Paying attention to the way I actually do this work. Because for me, growing medicine has always been spiritual. I found God in the garden — not in words or doctrine, but in dirt under my nails and conversations held in silence. I sit with these plants. I talk to them. I listen. And they have taught me more about healing, patience, and truth than anything man ever could.
So I made a decision.
I decided to grow enough to share beyond friends and family. To tend the land carefully. To harvest by hand. To honor leaf and stem, flower and root. To put a name on the way I work — not to claim it, but to stand behind it.
That’s how Granny Woman Herbs was born. Not as a business idea, but as an offering. Medicine grown with reverence. Handled with care. And shared the same way it always has been — hand to hand, heart to heart.
Our Way of Growing & Harvesting
I don’t plant by the calendar the way seed packets tell you to. I plant by the moon.
When the new moon comes dark and quiet, I walk the beds slowly and listen. That’s when beginnings are made. Seeds are tucked into the soil by hand, with patience, when the world is turned inward and roots are remembering who they are.
As the moon gathers light, the garden grows. I tend gently — watering, weeding, and watching — letting each plant take the time it needs. No forcing. No rushing. Just steady care.
When the full moon rises, that’s when I harvest. Every herb is harvested by hand, never by machine. I take only what is ready, leaving the plant strong and able to keep growing. Leaf and stem are gathered together, because both are medicine — the leaf offering quick comfort, the stem carrying strength and staying power.
After harvest, the herbs rest. They dry slowly in the dark with good air and time. When it’s time to blend and package, the work is still done by hand, with the same care as the first cut. Nothing is crushed. Nothing is rushed.
This is whole-plant medicine, grown and handled with respect from seed to package.
Our Herbs
Applemint • Bee Balm • Calendula • Catnip • Chamomile • Clary Sage • Echinacea • Elderflower • Goldenrod • Hibiscus • Holy Basil (Tulsi) • Hyssop • Lemon Balm • Marshmallow (leaf) • Meadowsweet • Mountain Mint • Mugwort • Mullein (leaf & flower) • Motherwort • Nettle • Prunella (Self-Heal) • Red Clover • Rosemary • Rose (petal / hip when available) • Skullcap • St. John’s Wort • Yarrow
Whole-plant herbal teas, harvested by hand and grown in rhythm with the land.
Granny Woman 
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