About

From Prairie to Pine

I was born beneath a wide-open sky — where the tall grasses of Oklahoma swayed like ocean waves, and I learned to listen. There, in the hush between the wind and the wheat, a little girl sat cross-legged in the golden fields, dreaming of lives she hadn’t lived yet.

I belonged to the land even then. Before I ever knew the word herbalist, or felt the weight of another’s final breath in my hands, I was already in love with the invisible threads that tie life, death, and earth together.

Now, I live hugged against a mountain, tucked into the green folds of the Appalachians — a forest-dweller with roots deepening each year. This land is older than memory, and somehow, it welcomed me home as if I had always belonged.

I grow medicine in soil rich with a heritage that is not my own — hundreds of plants, each with their own whisper. I walk barefoot. I tend. I remember. I pray in my own way. I do not follow a religion, but I follow the light. I listen for it like I once listened to the wind.

I am a nurse by profession, but I am a granny woman in spirit — a midwife to both life and death, a student of leaf and lichen, a keeper of old ways in a new time.

This site is my offering. To those who feel the ache of remembering something they were never taught. To the ones who still believe in medicine that grows from the ground and love that lingers after death.

I am not here to teach you. I am here to walk beside you. To pass along what the plants have taught me, what the dying have whispered, and what the girl in the prairie always knew.