Remembering Myself, Remembering the Land
A Week of Progress and Reflection
Today, I sit at my desk with palo santo burning, my screen saver flickering with visions of what’s to come at the Homestead—horses running, antique trucks revving, a greenhouse alive with fresh-smelling herbs and wildflowers drying in bundles. A place that feels settled, whole. A place that feels like home.
But ever since I bought the abandoned general store in October, it seems I have abandoned everything but it.
I used to do yoga every morning—now I stretch for a few minutes before running off to something else. I used to burn palo santo constantly, but it sat untouched for months. I used to meditate somewhat regularly, and now it happens once a month at best.
Today, I remember myself.
I tend to pour my heart and soul into my projects. I have always had an all-or-nothing spirit that has carried me far, but also left me burnt out more times than I care to admit. Lately, more than ever, I need to come back into balance. A metaphor for the Homestead, perhaps?
So, I light my candle and my palo santo, make coffee, sit on my mat for more than three minutes, and let myself be still. Nothing in this journey is worth it if I lose myself along the way.
Before I bought the general store, my content was all about health and wellness. After all, my Instagram username is Holistic Emma. 🪻
So after a morning of cleaning, organizing, resetting, and finding balance in my soul, I sit down to write about the Homestead.
What a beautiful, full week it has been.
One of the biggest shifts this week—My dad took down the old general store sign.
I drove two hours to pick up the brush cutter, and by the time I returned, the sign was gone. Pulling up to the building and seeing the front bare for the first time felt surreal—like a quiet confirmation that this place is no longer a store.
I know some locals might not love that it’s gone. They might feel a sense of loss, miss what it once was, or even question the changes I’m making. But the truth is, the store sat untouched for decades. And I chose to step in, to care for it, to bring it back to life — in a different way.
I will always respect what this place was. But more than anything, I am excited for what it will become.
