About

The Meadow Between is rooted in prairie wisdom, written for the in-between.

These are love letters from the threshold, where endings and beginnings live side by side, and the deep-rooted prairie holds what we cannot yet name.

The prairie teaches me patience. My nannyberry took four years to give me its first real blooms. And even then it was only a handful. My native garden shows me there's no such thing as perfection. Give the mistflower an edge and it will jump it. Offer the black-eyed susan a border and it will ignore it. Then there's reciprocity — the coneflower feeds the finch, and in that same feeding, loosens the seed that becomes next spring's flower.

This is where I return when everything else gives way. Sometimes for answers. Sometimes just for company in not-knowing.

These reflections are an invitation to dwell deeper — in yourself, in the sacred, in the earth that holds us all.

I’m here as a fellow traveler, not a guide with a map.

Come sit a while

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