This winter, during the off-season at The Heron, I’ve been driving around the country— excited to continue enjoying the nomadic lifestyle I’ve embraced for years. I spent quality time with family and friends along the East Coast while trying to find a healthy work-life balance on the road. I made it a priority to seek out beautiful places in nature, honor the land, offer prayers over the waters, ground myself, meditate, hibernate and soak up as much sunshine as possible, something I know has been in short supply back home in WNY.
A couple of weeks ago, I finally ventured West! I was excited to car-camp my way through the southern most states along the Gulf of Mexico for the first time on my way to Arizona from Florida. Blasting my music, singing my heart out, and cruising down the highway—that’s my happy place. Well, usually…
This past weekend, as I was driving through the oil fields of western Texas, I suddenly found myself in tears. Giant machines extracted oil, while flames shot from pipes in the ground. Rest stop signs warned that the water here is so toxic, if consumed by a six-month-old infant they could die without immediate medical treatment due to high level of nitrates (from agricultural runoff, pesticides, and industrial waste). The Earth here felt wounded, drained, Her waters sick. I could feel Her suffering deep in my body and heart. What broke me was seeing cows grazing on this lifeless, abused land—eating dead grass, drinking polluted water, and the thought of them ending up on grocery store shelves as USDA Grade Beef… If “we are what we eat, eats”, then no wonder so many people are sick!
Although I’m still feeling the weight of what I witnessed, it only strengthens my resolve and gratitude for being part of Green Heron Growers and The Heron community. We don’t have to accept the destruction of our land, the depletion of our food system, or the disconnect between people and their food. There is another way—a way that heals. Regenerative agriculture isn’t just about farming; it’s about restoring balance, honoring the Earth, and providing real, nutrient-dense food that sustains both body and soul. Spaces like The Heron remind me how essential it is to care for the land in a way that allows it to care for us in return. Living on the same land where my food is grown—witnessing the love and care that goes into it—is such a gift. And getting that real food to all of you? That’s an honor.
As consumers, we hold immense power. Every dollar we spend is a vote for the kind of world we want to live in. Choosing local, ethical, and sustainable food isn’t just a lifestyle choice—it’s an act of resistance against a system that prioritizes profit over life. When we support farmers working in harmony with the land, when we invest in our communities and the future for the next seven generations, we create ripples of change that spread far and wide.
This leg of my journey has been an emotional one, but it has only deepened my sense of purpose. I’ve witnessed both destruction and resilience, pain and beauty. And I know that through our choices, our voices, and our actions, we have the power to tip the scales toward healing. There is so much love and goodness out there, a lot of hope—I’ve seen it in small towns and big cities, in community gardens, parks, libraries, thrift stores, and in coffee shops… And I know that’s exactly what awaits me when I return home to The Heron in the spring.
This is the future I want to be a part of. This is the future we can all help build, to leave the world better than we found it. It starts with awareness, intention, and action. Let’s keep showing up, keep choosing better, and keep nourishing what truly matters.