Field Notes

What does it mean to live with integrity while remembering to care for ourselves? A quiet October morning brings reflections on gratitude, motherhood, seasonal change, and the small ways we show up for ourselves and others.

My yard—and my life—had begun growing in too many directions at once. Between elderberries, new work, a growing fly-fishing community, and the loss of my apple trees, I’m learning that tending a life isn’t about controlling everything. Sometimes it means accepting help, letting go, and clearing just enough space to see the path ahead.

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.