I’m Graham. These days, my eyes are glued to the ground, gleaning earth tones for the little bits of green that shine through. As spring draws nearer, I often need reminding that there’s life to see with my eyes turned up too. The phoebe and dogwoods keep me remembering, though.

I’m a writer, an herbalist, and a tender of quiet and connective spaces. I am curious about what it is to consider healing — from daily anxiety to chronic illness, from embodied trauma to sensing purpose and knowing peace — in the day-to-day and over the course of our lives. From time to time, this lends itself to classes and gatherings, herbal consultations, and writing of one sort or another.

I’m a slow mover. I like to sit up against a tree or lay my body down on the earth. Water makes me dance. Wind sweeps me up, up, up  into the forest. I am currently dedicating myself to moving at the speed of trust, cultivating a voice that speaks to what resonates in the quiet, and building an apothecary of ritual and place. 

Give me a shout if you’d like to connect about these things or about living with land, books or poetry, dancing in the morning and at night, or another facet of life. I am glad you’re here.

e p h e m e r a | a saturday morning retreat

presence, poetry, and practice with plants

restorative, contemplative, connective time with a moment in place

now saturday, april 13 10am-12:30pm candler, north carolina

herbalism consultations

Experience the guidance and resource possible in connection with herbal medicine and your own living being. Herbal medicine consultations are centered around growing connection with the intentions you hold for your life and finding resource and relationship in connection with the wild world.

Initial consultations are available for new clients, and continued consultations for returning clients.

Find the next available appointment.

I’ve been working on an emergent definition of my work as an herbalist. Learn more.

emergence // nearing spring

Emergence is upon us, the kind that only spring can bring. It’s a season for scarves and hot tea with honey and walks when it’s not too wet and body brushing lymph and listening for birds. My eyes are glued to the ground for new flavors of green. I expect I’ll see the dwarf irises first, then the bloodroot. You’ll hear about it, one way or another, from me or the planet.

The changing seasons bring with them integral change for us. We are on the same journey as the wilds, navigating darker days and then lighter ones, noticing in our blood the shift in the air, drawn to movement, to clean home, to dust the cobwebs in our minds. We might even find ourselves daydreaming of the fresh foods and sunkissed afternoons of summer. But we’ve things to tend to in the meantime, most of all our hearts.

I’ve offered a glimpse at my own navigations this spring in the most recent iteration of my irregular and elemental newsletter. I also have a new essay project called rough soles I’d love to share with you. Feel free to take a peek and let me know what is present for you in this emergent window.