I have always loved this earth.
It took a lifetime to let her love me back.

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I am a quiet rebel. A wise woman still blossoming. Someone who has lived around the world and found that the most profound homecoming is the one that happens when you finally stop running and press your hands into the soil.

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I have always had the awareness — that we are part of a living, unimaginable whole. That the earth is not backdrop to our lives but the very substance of them. That knowing lived in me for years, waiting.

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"Who I was, was no more. And that was the beginning."

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In 2024, Hurricane Helene tore through Western North Carolina — a place I had just moved to, a place I had fallen deeply in love with, a place that felt like a true homecoming. A month without power. Boiling water. Living alone, exhausted and vulnerable. I made the decision to drive back to Texas with my three cats, no working GPS, directions written by hand.

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I arrived broken. Financially, physically, spiritually wrung out. I had thrown everything in, in my fifties, to make a change — and here I was, back at the beginning. Or so it seemed.

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So I walked. Every day, along the river. I cried to the sky. I let my heart break open completely. And somewhere in that breaking, the earth held me. The way she always does, if we let her.

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"The river kept flowing. And slowly, so did I."

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I made my way back to Wimberley, Texas — back to the same little place I had left, back to a landlord who is like a grandfather to me, back to the threads of Soil & Soul Co. waiting to be picked up. The space had been a yoga studio while I was away. The good energy was still warm in the walls.

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I became very intentional. I grew my knowledge of native plants, of ecological design, of what it means to truly tend a landscape rather than simply style it. I began to trust — deeply, quietly — that the Universe had my back. That this work, this life, this way of moving in the world was not accidental.

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I am not a formally trained horticulturalist. I am someone who has spent decades on her knees in the dirt, in conversation with the land, learning from plants, from ecologists, from the earth herself. That is my credential. That is what I bring to your yard, your land, your corner of this Hill Country.

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I live simply now. I talk to the stars. I walk this earth a whole lot lighter — in way of being and in spirit. And I believe, with everything I am, that this simplicity is not a retreat from the world. It is a quiet rebellion against the chaos. It is the most radical thing I know how to do.

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Let's be rebels together and with the land,

Christina