I spoke with my cousin the other night. Just wanted to check up on her and let her know I was thinking of her. She reminded me that the work I am doing is in my DNA. That it's how we grew up. Being fed and healed with what was available. Although she’s a little older than myself, we shared the same family growing up just at different times. The old house still stands for now. I told her I’d like to find an illustrator to walk with me and draw the house and the land as I remember it. We talked about the garden, the chicken coop, the water well and the barn in the area I called "down the hill". We spoke about the poultices that were made when we were sick and going to the doctor was not the first thing when one was ill. We were healed at home. My herbalist was my grandmother. From clay dirt packs to lard and turpentine salves for cases of bronchitis. Food was medicine and medicine was food. It all went hand in hand. Merriam Webster defines a herbalist as a person who practices healing by the use of herbs. The list of herbs is massive and the medicinal value of some plants is yet to be discovered. And you can’t talk about herbalism without including traditional Chinese medicine, Ayurveda and what the first ancestors called root work. The history is vast and a lot of it lost because it was a verbal pass down and rarely written. Each indigenous culture brings a myriad of practices to the art of herbalism. The body is a miraculous work of the creator and as much as we think we know, there is more to learn. Each cell is connected to and dependent on a corresponding part. Herbalism means to forever be a learner. And although we use fancy words and promote this ancient practice as the “new thing” please remember herbalism is not new. It was a way of life for many until convenience and big pharma came in. For some it was all they had and all there was to keep the family and community well. It’s shrouded in mystery, some even say dark magic. Today we celebrate National Herbalists Day. 

What is love? Is it a feeling? Is it a condition? Is it just a word?

2 years ago I had cardiac stents inserted for a blocked heart vessel. You may say that’s nothing big , that it happens to many people. And you are right it does. What was once a serious procedure when performed is now a simple outpatient appointment. But having that happen to me has reawakened my passion for living. And as age creeps up I realized there was more time behind me than in front of me. So whatever I was going to do, wanted to do or needed to do. Now was the time. To offset my anxiety, not so much of the aging process but of what this meant to my daily life. I needed to remain balanced. Keep distractions and drama in the low key or nil position. I read a lot and I have a published book, Permission: It’s in You. But I needed to stay active as well, and being active in not just doing things for the sake of doing things, but in things that move you and give you peace and most importantly purpose. I started a garden. A friend built me some raised beds and thus a new story and new revelations of life began I would come home from work and hit the beds. Pouring soil, weeding and planting and then harvesting. It felt like home. The garden of my grandmother. At the end of the day I could hardly wait until the next morning to see what had happened overnight. I dried herbs and canned vegetables until they no longer produced. And in that i remembered how my grandmother would use herbs and old remedies to heal. And as I researched and then took some informational classes I realized, THIS IS IT. This is home. I wanted to grow vegetables and herbs and then use this produce to make oils and lotions that helped our skin. As well as food for our table. As I researched and experimented with different oils and herbs I found that infused oils last much longer on my skin. And As we age, of course our skin ages and along with perimenopause and menopause we experience hormonal changes . Add that to skin dryness, skin spots, ashy skin color, the inevitable environmental exposure and the fact that our skin builds up dead skin cells as is natures course. It’s natural that man’s largest organ gets all the wear and tear and little care. I’ve never worn a lot of makeup at any time but I could see the subtle changes. The garden and the herbs gave me later grace oils. Its is so confirming to plant a seed see the land give back a harvest and then we are able to use this harvest for our good. Just as those who came before us and to those who will come after us please remember that We have been given everything that we need to survive and thrive in this world. Many things bring us home. It can be a thought, a smell or a feeling. Home is not just a house on a perfect piece of property . it is a place that is deep in our soul. It’s a place we can go to settle ourselves and maybe to find ourselves. To settle our minds and our hearts. To talk and then to listen for the answer. Home is a place of giving and receiving. A place where a part of you lives and every now and then needs to be reunited. After our mother’s womb , it’s where we began and Where we were nurtured and cared for. It remains home. It’s the place you return to in hopes of finding what was lost. It may not happen to you today or tomorrow but it will happen. And if you can’t travel there physically our mind will always thinking home. Our health is tied to our home , our lifestyle and genetics. Some of it we can control. Some not so much. The name latter Grace is how God ‘s Word never fails us and is a constant reminder to me that latter represents his word in action and that Grace has been given to us all You will find me at HOME. In my garden Where I am honored to bring you Latter Grace Oils & Balms.