On naming a farm, and the slow inheritance of a place. There is a moment when a place stops being somewhere you visit and becomes somewhere you belong. It isn’t the day you plant the first tree, or even the first harvest. For me, it happened the day we gave the farm a name. Stone & Petal. We chose it years ago, though for a long time I hardly said it aloud. It felt almost too intimate, as though naming a landscape were an act that should be earned rather than declared. Only later did I...

☽ PlantLust Botanicals · Field Notes · 2026 an annual declaration ⁂ Mugwort grows where cultivation begins to loosen. Along the CT and White River banks, at the edge of gravel, thicket, and shade, it returns each spring. By late June, the undersides of the leaves flash silver in the wind. Crushed between the fingers, the plant smells resinous, bitter, green, something between cedar, smoke, and rain-dark soil. It is not a delicate plant. It spreads by rhizome through disturbed ground with...

There's a particular kind of summer evening that stays with you long after the season passes. The air thick with warmth, fruit heavy on the branches, earth still holding the day's heat beneath bare feet. Orchard Fire was born from that memory—and from my partner Stephen's gift for listening to what plants want to say. When Aromatics Choose Their Partners Stephen has always been able to sense the subtle conversations that happen between essential oils. He works with them through scent —...