at home

Old friends, colliding of worlds, lemon pasta, new life, conversations under a sound machine, growing into the expansion, sore cheeks, muggy summer nights with a storm breathing down your neck, walks around the block as the humidity releases its grip, stopping to smell the flower blossoms, nourishing your people, falling asleep in a space so filled with love, long days and nights traveled, choosing each other again and again, freshly grated parmesan and the smell of parsley, the hospitable comfort of a futon when it’s in the home of your friends, eating Bambas and strawberries at the kitchen counter, stepping into the lives we couldn’t have ever imagined for ourselves, and the knowing that any amount of time spent together is a gift to hold for a lifetime.

Little Sister Apothecary

In 2021 Kira enrolled in school to study the Wise Woman Tradition, following a calling to deepen her relationship with the plant world. She held an intuitive feeling that many of our modern problems could be linked to seeing the natural world as other or separate. Also, that our aches, problems, and dis-ease are often viewed as things to be fixed. Instead of patching over our pains, Kira has been exploring what it would  mean it focus on nourishment and flooding our body with all the goodness that it so craves. What if we stopped viewing our pain as brokenness and started seeing it as a helpful message of imbalance? …And so began Little Sister Apothecary.

I know a question Kira get’s a lot from people is “What does that medicine do?” or “What does it address?” And the answer is not simple. Yes, these plants contain herbal actions that target certain symptoms (of which I’ve experienced first hand), but what I’ve found is that it’s the relationship with the plants that acts as the vehicle for healing. 

I’m not an expert on this stuff, but here’s what I have experienced: Taking time out my busy life to start my day with a cup of oat straw infusion (which I did daily for a year), meditating over a cup of infused schissandra berries, or slowly sipping a spicy adaptagenic elixir has put me right back where I need to be—in the moment and in my body. I’ve also noticed my anxiety dip, my hurt murmurs subside, and my energy increase.

Little Sister Apothecary was born out of the mission to help people connect back to themselves and their communities. I’ve seen it help our friends and family. It’s really powerful. The medicine is infused with intention and care, all done in ceremony. To all of our loved ones who have come to our home and shared a cup of tea or a home-cooked meal from Kira, you know her gift. I’m so grateful she now gets to share it even with more people.

www.littlesisterapothecary.com

overwhelmed by the giving

Last night I had a spoonful of local whipped honey and I couldn’t believe how incredibly lucky we are to live at the same time as honey bees and to taste their life’s work. The light, airy ambrosial flavors danced from the tip of my tongue, all the way to the core of my body and I wanted to cry of gratitude. Kira reminded me the other day that a bee makes less than a gram of honey in their lifetime. That’s a drop of honey. And there I was spooning it into my mouth in my kitchen and passing the jar around with Kira and Rebeca. Occasionally I can’t help but trip out over how strange this all is. I’ll get overwhelmed by the beauty and interconnectedness. Simple foods remind me that I’m home and I reminisce on the hands, wings, antennae, seasons, and cycles that delivered the spoonful of honey to me. To remember all of those steps is to bring them back to life. I think of the quote I read a few years ago, “You are eating a little bit of sunlight every time you eat food.”

let's walk

Let’s walk. Let’s cut down an alley I’ve never been down before. I want to show you a house that I’ve loved since I was a kid. And over there, where I used to skate, behind the bookstore when the security guards got off. The courtyard too, an eden in the middle of the city, where I shot my first photography assignment. Everything changed that year, when I was given my grandpa’s camera, the city was rewritten, reborn right before my eyes. So much has changed since I was here, so much has changed since yesterday. But the streets still hold my footprints and I see the faces of people I remember. My old neighbors, tending their front yard, raking their leaves and gently nodding with a smile. It’s good to be back, and I’m grateful to share it with you.