This is what healing looks like for me—muddy knees, blooming “weeds,” and a whole lot of daily movement on my half-acre suburban lot near Saint Paul, Minnesota.
After a traumatic brain injury in 2007, stage 2 melanoma in 2012, and years of anxiety, I found myself at 67 facing shortened days—energy crashing around 5pm, thinking less clearly as evening approached. I suspected years of high cholesterol might be blocking those delicate arteries serving my brain. A year ago, I went all in on a whole food, plant-based, oil-free diet, hoping to think more clearly into the evening and ease the perseverative anxiety that had plagued me for years.
At the same time, I transformed my backyard into my pharmacy, dedicating my half-acre to forageable wild foods and healing plants.
Those stinging nettles others spray away? They became my mineral powerhouses and natural anti-inflammatories. Wild mustard greens turned into peppery medicine for eighteen years of chronic neuroinflammation. I planted with intention—black raspberries heavy with antioxidants, red currants bursting with vitamin C, hardy hablitzia spinach, and Good King Henry wild greens that could thrive in any condition.
The results spoke for themselves: LDL cholesterol dropped from 146 to 114, inflammation markers plummeted to an optimal 0.2 CRP, and my anxiety began lifting. Was it the plant-based diet alone, or something more? We know that fresh-picked plants retain peak nutrient density—vitamins that degrade within hours of harvest, minerals still vibrating with life force, phytonutrients at their most bioavailable. When you eat a lambsquarter leaf minutes after cutting it, or work violet leaves and flowers into a fresh salad, you’re accessing nutrition in its most potent form.
My neurons seemed to recognize this ancient fuel, finding their way back to balance through food that was truly alive.
But the real magic happened in the quiet moments among my plants, learning that true healing comes not from fighting our circumstances, but from working with the natural world around us. My landscape became my teacher, pharmacy, and sanctuary all at once. No perfect paths or Pinterest garden beds here—just a woman who discovered that sometimes the most powerful medicine grows right under our feet. It’s messy, it’s beautiful, and it feeds me body and soul. Each meal tells the story of a landscape transformed, a body healed, and a spirit renewed—one “weed” at a time.
Today, I share these recipes not because I have to, but because I love to eat well. Each dish tells the story of a landscape transformed, a body healed, and a spirit renewed—one “weed” at a time.