Field Notes

This weekend at Tremont Institute, I came to learn about aquatic ecology. I left thinking about rivers, resilience, and how nature never resists change—it simply finds another path.

After a sudden bicycle accident leaves my husband needing surgery for a shattered elbow, I find myself sitting alone in a waiting room reflecting on caregiving, guilt, herbal medicine, and unexpected change. This Field Note shares honest moments from the surgery center, the plants helping us heal at home, a mysterious Pandora sphinx moth, and the quiet realization that healing isn't only about broken bones—it can also become the beginning of a new chapter.

Summer in the old church brings cobwebs, June bugs, wasps, birds, and an ever-changing cast of animals beneath the house. In this Field Note, I reflect on a slower week, the rhythms of old-home living, and the unexpected wildlife that has become part of daily life.

A solo morning on Little River Trail reminded me that not every day in the Smokies has to end with a grand slam. Between euro nymphing, native plants, bear tracks, and quiet moments on the river, I found exactly what I needed.

A quiet summer morning becomes a reminder that success isn't always measured by being busy. From gardening and fly tying to teaching beginners in the Smokies, this Field Note is about choosing a slower, more intentional life.

A quiet summer morning leads to reflections on home, freedom, gardening, local food, and choosing a life rooted in adventure. From cleaning our brick rental house to harvesting the season's first tomatoes, this edition of Field Notes captures the beauty of slow living in East Tennessee.

This first Field Note shares a summer morning inside our converted old church—living without air conditioning, tending the garden, returning from Minnesota, and finding beauty in ordinary life.