For 20 years, I taught geography — guiding students through the rivers, mountains, and histories of the world. But my own roots have always run deeper, winding through the quiet paths of the countryside, where the land itself speaks in whispers. I am not just drawn to nature; I am of it. Wandering forests, crushing thyme beneath my fingers, gathering the wild offerings of the seasons — these are not pastimes, but a remembering. This love of the earth is inseparable from my devotion to the old ways. The stillroom is not history to me. It is a living rhythm — an alchemy of land and hands, of fragrance and fire. The women of the past did not simply “make remedies.” They wove the medicine of the earth into the fabric of daily life...