Leisha I can feel it … the pulse of something long planted, now pushing its way to the surface. The Living Ground Store and Café is almost ready to open. And standing here, on this edge between what has been vision and what is becoming reality, I’m carrying a thousand stories some light, some heavy, all alive.
This project didn’t come from a business plan or a branding idea. It grew from the soil itself. From microbes and roots. From witnessing how far we’ve strayed from the source, and how urgently we need to remember. Living Ground has always been about that remembering. Remembering how to care for soil. Remembering how to care for our bodies. Remembering how to live in a way that doesn’t fight nature, but walks with her.
We live in a world that rewards strategy over soul. Funnels over feeling. We’re told to create scalable blueprints, to chase visibility, to design the perfect offer, the perfect email sequence, the perfect brand. We’re told to build audiences, followers, growth. We’re told there’s a roadmap to success, and if we just follow the steps, we’ll make it. But what if those steps lead us further from what matters?
Living Ground isn’t about conquering markets or hacking algorithms. It’s not about changing the world out there through spectacle. It’s about changing our little world right here. It’s about the real impact we can make with our hands in the dirt, our herbs on the shelves, our microbes in the soil, and our hearts open to each person who walks through our garden gate.
This may not be the fastest route. It may not be the most efficient model. It may never “scale” in the way the business world celebrates. But that’s not the point. The point is presence. The point is integrity. The point is that the people who come to Living Ground are not just customers — they are community. They are students. They are co-creators. And they are hungry, not for another product, but for truth. For nourishment. For something alive.
We’re not building a funnel. We’re cultivating a field. And that field has taken years to tend. It is filled with microbes, emotion, lessons, seasons, and stories. Some of the most meaningful things can never be marketed — they must be felt.
So yes, this may be a risk. It may not follow the rules. But the rules weren’t written for us. And that’s okay. Because in our small corner of this world, life is growing — and that, to me, is success.
And now, a piece of that remembering is about to take shape as a physical space — a store, yes, but so much more than that. A whole food shop. A kitchen alchemy lab. A microbial medicine chest. A café. A community hub. A place where the soil, the gut, and the heart all meet.
We’ve been deep in production — making and crafting, testing and refining. The freeze dryer is nearly always running. From the gardens, we’re bringing forward freeze-dried cacao pulp powder, fermented koji cheese blends, seasoned ricotta cultures, herbal teas, tinctures, and probiotic seasonings. Dill, matico, cleavers, yarrow, red clover, chamomile, valerian, nettle…. herbs from the Secret Garden are now tinctured, dried, or infused into soaps and healing balms. There’s a rice-cracker seasoning line built on fermented koji, miso-inspired rice pastes, probiotic snack dusts, and microbially enhanced spice blends. There’s shelf-stable fermented salsa dust, powdered cacao nectar, and a savory horseradish herb cheese blend that took weeks to perfect. And behind each product is the labor of fermentation, of balance, of preservation without preservatives. It’s slow work, but it’s true work.
The Secret Garden has been growing not just plants, but medicine. It is a sanctuary where most of the herbs people call weeds grow wild, full of purpose. This garden is now also a teaching space. As we finalize our herb book, this garden becomes an invitation. You’ll be able to tour it. Learn from it. Understand how each herb is integrated into our products, and how they each play a part in bringing vitality back to our bodies. And you won’t just find the common herbs. You’ll see the rare, the peculiar, the strange varieties you don’t find in market stalls — plants with stories and songs that are asking to be remembered.
We’re also beginning to produce essential oils, slowly and with intention. We wildcraft and distill, collecting not just the oils but the hydrosols, holding the full imprint of the plant. This is slow, hot, fragrant work. And it takes a tremendous amount of plant matter to produce even a few small bottles. But when the scent arrives it is clean, sharp, and fully alive and it’s worth it.
One of the deepest pieces of this project has been the work we are doing with our local community. I didn’t want to create something foreign to this land. I wanted to create something rooted in it. We’ve been training, teaching, and building opportunities for locals to join us in this work. Some have never seen a tincture or used fermented seasoning. Others have offered back their own ancestral knowledge, showing me how deep the medicine of this land truly runs. This work isn’t charity. It’s partnership. It’s mutual respect. It’s regeneration.
And none of this would matter if the foundation wasn’t living. Everything we grow is grown in soil that is alive with microbes. Everything. The herbs, the vegetables, the fruits — they are not being fed by chemical inputs. They are being nurtured by a thriving, microscopic community that makes nutrients bioavailable, that protects the plant, and in turn, protects us. Microbe-grown soils matter. They matter because they are the difference between a lifeless leaf and a medicinal one. Between nutrient density and hollow calories. Between temporary stimulation and deep, grounded restoration. We talk about the human microbiome. But the soil microbiome is the beginning. Without it, there is no health.
But I won’t lie. This has not been easy. It looks simple on the outside…the smiling jars, the cozy garden beds, the finished label on the tincture shelf. But behind the scenes, it’s overwhelming. I’ve had to make hard decisions daily.
There have been nights I couldn’t sleep, wondering if I was wrong to keep going. Moments where I’ve stood at the edge of giving up, wondering if I had it in me to keep building. I’ve questioned myself. I’ve doubted. I’ve cried in the garden. I’ve said out loud, “Why am I doing this?” And then I remember. I remember the people who have shown up. I remember the messages from others who are inspired, who want to learn, who want to return to the soil. I remember that something deep inside me has always known this path wasn’t about me. It’s about life and protecting it, even when it feels like the world is unraveling.
Many people are stepping into similar work right now. And I celebrate that. Truly. But I also wonder if they know how much is required to bring something like this to life. Not just the financial and physical resources. But the stamina. The emotional labor. The responsibility. To grow something that isn’t just beautiful — but that works. That feeds others. That teaches. That ripples out in service. That is where the real work begins.
We’re close now. When we open, the Living Ground Café will serve juices, herbal infusions, smoothies, salads, warm garden soups, fermented appetizers, and small plates that are grown, picked, and prepared right here. You’ll taste soil in the best way through flavor, depth, and life. The shop will offer tinctures, dried herbs, garden produce, fermented goods, teas, salt blends, skin serums, natural cleaners, soaps, hydrosols, essential oils, and probiotic powders . Everything crafted with intention from the land and the kitchen that sustains us.
And yes, it will be imperfect. But it will be real. It will be alive. It will be built with microbes, and herbs, and stories. It will hold the spirit of the land. And it will be built with courage.
This isn’t just a store opening. It’s the emergence of a whole system and one that honors microbes, plants, people, and the path of remembering. And deep down, I know this work is not only necessary. It’s essential. Not for me. Not for the sake of a business. But for the world right now.
Because the world doesn’t need more products. It needs more places that restore life.
And that’s what we’re building.
