In the newness of each dawn before winter ,Laura Rose steps into the dew drops of her earth Between Glastonbury and Butleigh

There her hands are as a compass guiding through bramble and fern where wild greens are collected along with their secrets

A palette of emerald dreams gathered with reverence and love; berries, flowers, ivy, and other greenery each bringing a personal promise to the mix

She brings them home, and in her home and kitchen, the air chants as the oven hums its warm invitation as sourdough discard waits with its legacy of fermentation

She recreates a tang of history in her alchemy of simplicity where each mince pie becomes a vessel for the spirit of the land,soul, and body the sweetness lingers like a hymn

Outside it seems the elements are in deep  conversation as Laura, a keeper of light, allows her beauty and her laughter to ignite hope in our weary hearts

She ever reminds us that life in its untamed glory is a cycle, seeing the return of warmth,the promise of growth, and the earth breathing new mercies daily

Laura Rose, here to remind us that from the earth we rise, may we now show her honor and grace