Forgive me, Father it has been quite some time since my last confession.

It has been so long, I will reintroduce myself. I’m Rachel. I write. I make photographs. I grow plants. I am married. I am a mother. I live in a house. I like traveling. Being home makes me cranky sometimes. I noticed.


Been busy, what can I say. Not feeling too reflective. Just cranking out plants. Sending out some invoices. “Generating the paperwork” as my mentor, Tony, once said. Loading up the truck with plants and driving. Carrying. Digging. Unloading empty crates. Getting f/cking rained on.


Just got back from the Outer Banks. My, I love the beach.


Went to the Mid-Atlantic Women’s Herbal Conference. Went with my plants, my truck, and tent. I camped out alone. Actually, I was in a grassy field dotted with other tents. Not really alone but not with my family. I’ve not traveled alone in some time. Actually, some deep time, like never, not since I met my husband. Haven’t traveled alone.

I considered asking a friend to camp with me, as in, in my tent. I decided against it. Being alone sounded so wonderful and anxious. It was pleasant and fine. Not monumental but freeing.

I attended talks by Rocio Alcaron, Tammi Sweet, and Kathleen Maier.