Honoring Legacy to Cultivate PLENTY

Last week, I started sharing the heart behind PLENTY—this framework that’s been guiding my spring intentions and taking shape in my own life, home, out on the land, and how I relate with my community. The pieces I'm putting together that shape responsible and effective stewardship.

And the truth is, it’s not something I’ve fully arrived at… it’s something I’m living, learning, and refining in real time. But that’s the point, this isn’t a checklist to perfect, but a model to practice. If what I shared stirred something in you—if it made you pause, even for a moment—you’re already doing the work.

PLENTY isn’t something you achieve, it’s an anchor we can return to.

Let’s go one layer deeper. Before anything can grow, it has to be rooted. Last week was about the here and now, this week is about everything else.

L - Legacy

Legacy is remembering there was wisdom here long before us… and choosing to listen.

It looks like holding the past as a teacher while thinking a few steps ahead—not from fear or control, but from care.

On land, stewardship through the lens of legacy looks like planting primarily native species and using non-natives with clear intention and management—and trusting that what’s meant for this place already knows how to thrive, often with far less effort from us.

Quick story: When we started our food forest, we planted a ton of Napier grass—also known as elephant grass. It’s native to Africa but thrives in Florida, and when used intentionally it’s an incredible tool for biomass, chop-and-drop, and even animal feed (we had plans for cattle at the time).

But plans changed—and I let managing the Napier fall to the bottom of the list.

Now I'm playing catch up as it’s completely overgrown, taking over the food forest, shading out young fruit trees, and pushing to spread even further.

This isn’t the hardest lesson the land has handed me—but it’s a clear one about legacy.

What we plant doesn’t just live in the moment—it carries forward. If we’re not actively stewarding what we’ve planted, we’re still creating a legacy—just not always the one we intended.

Because legacy isn’t just what you leave behind—it’s what you’re building, tending, and honoring today.

The soul of a community is built through repeated, intentional choices. Every yes is a no somewhere else. I’ve had to release people-pleasing and choose from values. Avoidance isn’t neutral—it’s a choice, and it always shows up.

Community stewardship isn't on the shoulders of one person. Legacy isn’t held—it’s built by those who show up. Participation is a choice. The ones shaping what this becomes are the ones willing to step in, not the ones waiting, watching, or keeping a foot out.

I’m deeply grateful for a core group of founding moms who have been part of this community long before we knew where we were headed. Before we started gathering regularly on my land, where I naturally stepped into a “leader” role—not as someone with more weight, but as someone holding space alongside them. I truly couldn’t lead this community without their presence.

We aligned in our values from the beginning, so while some decisions have been difficult in practice, they’ve felt clear in principle—and we’ve been able to work through them together. It’s also been easeful to attract and settle in with additional families who share these core values, while still bringing a beautiful sense of diversity, perspective, and growth to our community.

This is what a living legacy looks like—like the land, it needs tending, intention, and honest stewardship to thrive. Legacy is built in the choices you make consistently.

I’m coincidentally writing this just a few days before my birthday, which—like most of you—always feels like such a reflective portal. I find myself contemplating who I’ve been this past year, how she connects to every version of me that came before, and where I’m headed—who I’m becoming.

As a mom—and maybe especially because my babies’ birthdays fall in this same spring season—I think about my ancestors, the women who came before me. I reflect on how much easier my life is in many ways, and also how much we’ve freaking overcomplicated things. And I think about my future ancestors, too: what stories will they tell about me? How do I want to be remembered?

This brings me right back to legacy. The same way the land and community responds to what we plant, what we nurture, and how we tend it. The same is true in our personal lives—legacy isn’t passive. It’s something we are actively shaping in every small, intentional decision we make, day by day. This isn't about perfectionism, there's no way to know what we the future holds, and lingering in anxiety isn't useful either. This is about meeting each moment fully—rooted in the wisdom behind you and accountable to those who come next.

This is why I love coaching with moms and guiding mama circles—because they create intentional pauses that help us return to what matters, so the moment-by-moment choices of our lives feel more aligned, grounded, and seamless.

I so hope (if you're local, free, and it's calling to you) you can join us for our next mama circle. While we’ve traditionally gathered on seasonal transition points like the Spring Equinox, this year we’re shifting to the midpoints—our next gathering falling around Beltane—to celebrate and fully embody what’s alive, growing, and unfolding.

If you haven’t listened to my free Equinox ritual, it’s not too late to drop in and experience it-you'll be guided gently through my process for setting intentions for this season. I’ll be back next week to share the next layer of the PLENTY framework, and I promise promise to share all the official details for our upcoming gathering, too.