I was born and raised, for the most part, in Alabama. I’m a mom, a professor, a gardener, a writer, a damn fine cook, and a country witch. Now, in my fifties, I see these things as part of the same tree.
We have a micro farm where I do most of my own learning. Focusing on relatively small farming practices, everything we have is tiny: our bantam chickens, our miniature trees, and a smaller high tunnel than most could consider “high.” We operate on just under two acres of land–the most magical, sacred, hidden little spot in our neck of the woods. My life here, with all of its spots, bruises, musings and minor miracles are the fodder for this blog. After all, it was the place where I nearly died–and the land where I learned to live again.
Fair warning: this blog has been through the wringer. I have grown here, struggled here, broken down here, celebrated here. Everything I’ve written is now in archives, where the voices of the past should be. As a crone, I’ve gone through those boxes of years and learned more than I ever thought possible. It doesn’t seem right to hide them, so I’ve left them here in the proverbial “archived attic,” as it were. All content has been released–as has the ghosts of my past.
And now, it’s time for new adventures. I’m not sure what that will look like as of yet. I predict that I will share more of who I am now, more recipes that feed the soul, more gardening practices that do not ravage the earth, more spiritual musings and possibly a few chicken videos. More than anything, I need my little witch cottage back. I’ve decided against purple paint–green is so my color now–but you might find some lavender hues around the door, just so you know where you’ve landed.
Welcome to my home. It’s been a long time. The witch is in–and plans to stay.