The First Seed Is Me

The First Seed Was Me

A soft beginning to my journey toward growing food, growing magic, and growing myself.

Something wasn’t working.

I couldn’t name it at first—just a quiet ache, a sense that my life was slightly misaligned, like a beautiful quilt stitched with love but pulled too tight in one corner.

I’ve always been mindful of what I eat. I’ve danced with veganism, flirted with carnivore, and dove headfirst into the organic aisle like it was a sacred spring. But none of it felt like mine. Not fully.

And then it hit me:
The biggest improvement I could make wasn’t in what I bought.
It was in what I grew.

Love, Cuddles, and Compost

When I stitch my amigurumi creatures, I cuddle them the moment they’re complete. Even the tiniest ones. I believe they need that final touch of love and magic to come alive. And I know—deeply—that my food deserves the same.

I want to sweet-talk my tomatoes.
I want to hug my squash.
I want to raise my carrots like kin.

Because when I nurture the soil, I nurture myself.
When I feed my future critters with care, I will feed my own spirit too.
And when I grow something with love, that love doesn’t just stay in the garden and pasture—it comes back to me in every bite.

My Willow Witch Dream (and the Garden That’s Coming)

I haven’t started my garden yet.
No chickens clucking in the yard.
No herbs sunbathing on the windowsill.
We’re renting, and how long we’ll be here is still uncertain.

But I have begun.

I’m learning. Researching. Gathering ideas like seeds in my pocket.
I’m buying from local growers who are already living the dream and generously sharing it.
And I’m making things from scratch—because convenience is a sneaky thief, leaving us full but not truly fed..

Snacks? There are so many to make
Sauces like Mayo? Homemade tastes a million times better! I don’t even like mayo, miracle whip girl here, but never again!
Bread? Still flirting with that one

These baby steps feel like spells. Quiet rebellions. Whispers to my future garden: I’m coming.

And while I don’t grow my own food yet, I do my best to make the most of every meal.
Most days, my kitchen smells like rosemary and rebellion—like a cottage tucked deep in the forest, where love simmers in every pot and scent becomes memory.

I call this My Willow Witch Kitchen, and it is filled with spells disguised as lunch recipes and rituals disguised as dinner prep. It’s not launched yet, but the dream is alive.

And this blog—this space—is where I’ll begin to whisper it into the world.

Because Our Improvement Project isn’t just about products or brands.
It’s about stories.
It’s about becoming.
It’s about honoring even our most ridiculous truths as sacred. (Like wanting to be lovingly devoured by a willow tree and its bug entourage.)

So, I’ll keep making magic with what I have.
Feeding my family with intention.
Planting seeds—some in the soil, some in the spirit—until the garden catches up to the dream.

Until Then…

I’ll keep dreaming of my garden.
I’ll keep cuddling my stuffies.
I’ll keep baking my bread and writing my spells.
And I’ll keep sharing, one messy, magical post at a time.

If you’re here, reading this, maybe you’re planting your own first seed too.
Let’s grow together.

The Storm of uncertainty

Fell into a bit of ADHD burn out with a spout of depression. Climbed back into my hidey-hole.

Ready to emerge again, must get caught up on all my slacking to-do's.

It's always a surprise when I come out of my hermit shell. It's almost as though I don’t even realize I went back in.

I come out of my shell long enough to move a couple inches forward. The fog lifts away for a while and it's like I have the ability to do things! I feel free, the gate to my tiny cage has been lifted!

The fog begins to roll in, increasing in density and mass. Growing darker and heavier with each passing second. I feel myself curling up into my cozy home ready to prepare for the storm. The fog is so thick it has covered any possible source of light. The wind is whirling so intensely with gushing bellows of air to throw my little crab self, shell and all, into the twisting, raging fit of a level 7 tornado busting through concrete walls. I awake months later confused and battered from the storm beating me so harshly that it takes a moment to gather my bearings.

Just as I begin to realize. Once I have that breakthrough of remembering everything that I just experienced another storm is headed right for me.

But don’t you worry, because while I am getting thrown against life's batting cage and getting beaten to a pulp, there is so much growth and progress happening within. Where no one can see.

I'm learning the patterns of the storm, I am aware of the offsets and I am constantly seeking the opportunities to obtain balance.

~ Makayla

Self-loves helps me to accept the scenario in which my life is playing currently. I am able to offer myself more compassion and understanding, and that my fellow hermit crabs, is a mighty win!

It is difficult to have self-love and care when it seems all your time is sucked away by two energy consuming tiny humans who demand all of your time and attention. However, here is to making more of an effort to make time for things such as meditation, "spa" night, crafty night for just yourself and/or with friends. Having girls night more frequently, and even allowing yourself to lock away in your own space to decompress and let the nerves settle. Removing the boiling pot of water from the blazing burner and simmering down to peace.

I am at the trail head of this new path, I am terrified of the unknown, yet also ecstatic to be moving in a direction I had not contemplated before. This journey is bound to be a wild one, also an extremely rewarding one!