Origin Story of Forest & Flowers Retreat

Over the river and through the woods I would go to my grandparent’s house. Actually it was over the creek and through the woods. Slippery Rock Creek flowed under the bridge we crossed before turning up the mile long hill.

Halfway up the hill there was a mysterious road that we never went on when we visited. It wasn’t until I became a resident of this place that I ventured down this road for the first time on a run. I was overwhelmed with tears, and had to stop and catch my breath from the flood of beauty, gratitude, and belonging I felt.

I had found my place, or maybe this place had found me. 

Robin Wall Kimmerer, author of Gathering Moss and Braiding Sweetgrass, wrote an essay called, “Greed Does Not Have to Define Our Relationship to Land: On Choosing to Belong to a Place.”

“Native people have a different term for public lands: we call them home. We call them our sustainer, our library, our pharmacy, our sacred places. Indigenous identity and language are inseparable from land. Land is the residence of our more-than-human relatives, the dust of our ancestors, the holder of seeds, the makers of rain; our teacher. Land is not capital to which we have property rights; rather it is the place for which we have moral responsibility in reciprocity for its gift of life. Here is the question we must at last confront: Is land merely a source of belongings, or is it the source of our most profound sense of belonging? We can choose.”

I respectfully acknowledge the land here in the Appalachian region of western Pennsylvania was once unowned free land, inhabited by many indigenous cultures.  My home, and Forest & Flowers Retreat, are located on the traditional, ancestral territory of 𐓏𐒰𐓓𐒰𐓓𐒷 𐒼𐓂𐓊𐒻 𐓆𐒻𐒿𐒷 𐓀𐒰^𐓓𐒰^ (Osage) and Monongahela Culture according to Native Land Digital.  Knowing and acknowledging the land we live on is a way of deepening our connection with place, and honoring the ancestral people who stewarded this land in the past.

Before my husband and I built our homestead here, and before I established Forest & Flowers Retreat as a botanical farm and retreat space, it was the home of my maternal grandparents. They handcrafted the house and buildings, leaving a legacy of beauty and love that will forever be felt here.

In my early 20s, I had stayed with them periodically throughout the summer since I went to university nearby. I remember sitting on the porch one day and saying to both of them, “It always feels so peaceful here – it’s like coming to a retreat.”  They laughed. Little did I know how those words would come into form. 

When my husband and I had returned “home” to the Appalachian region, we were looking for land to build a house. My grandmother passed on during this time, and after many discussions and plans, my grandfather sold us some of his acreage so we could build. He supported and watched us create and begin the journey with steady encouragement and wisdom. We were neighbors for a short 5 years before he passed on.

I truly thought we’d be neighbors longer, and it suddenly felt lonely living on this land that we had shared for a time. I spent many walks around these woods wandering with grief and sadness, but as time passed I also felt a connection to them that has remained. I still smile, laugh, and let tears flow as I witness the ways their love and presence continues in a different form.

The vision of opening this space to others as the retreat it has always felt like to me led to purchasing the property, and Forest & Flowers Retreat was established in 2021. There was a rebirth that came after death, and I’ve sensed that this continues to be a place, for those who visit here, where cycles of change are felt and honored.

As I pass the row of White Pines on the way to the Retreat House, I wonder, “Did I ever tell Gram and Pappy when they lived here, how much I loved these trees? Had I ever told them how grateful I was that they planted all of them as young saplings?” They put these roots into the soil nearly thirty years ago. Thirty years.

My responsibility to this place runs as deep as the roots of the trees. The reciprocity I offer for these gifts, and the gratitude I feel for this sacred land that holds the ashes of my ancestors, is what moves me to cultivate this place for pollinators and people, to support regeneration of the soil, and to remember that everything we do here flows downhill to the creek.

I have found my place. This place has found me. This place doesn’t belong to me. I belong to this place.