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.