Aunt C’Anna here with a reminder…

My name, face, and story are out there—because my wildflowers needed to find me.

But that doesn’t mean everyone belongs in the Grove.

This week is all about internet safety—and it’s personal.

Because even I get messages from people who don’t belong here.

Creeps, bots, scammers… I call them what they are: evil Vireya.

Invasive. Unwelcome. Blocked.

If it feels off—it probably is.

You don’t owe anyone access to your light.

Protect your peace. Report. Block. Move on.

Only kindness takes root here.

Only wildflowers belong.

"This week in the Grove, we’re talking about something real. Something hard.
Not to scare you—but to keep you safe.
The internet can feel like a garden—but not everyone in it comes with good intentions.
So Viola Belle and I are here, not just with words, but with tools.
Because softness and strength can go hand in hand."

📖 Dear Diary,

I’ve been thinking a lot about where all of this is going.

Essence Grove started as a story—something to help me through the hard days, the heavy feelings, the moments I thought might swallow me whole.

But the truth is… it’s become so much more than that.
It’s my hope.
My soft place to land.
My safe space.

And maybe—just maybe—it could be yours too.

I used to wish for a place to just feel.
To breathe.
To exist without pretending.

I never really found it… so I started creating it.
Piece by piece.
Page by page.
Wish by wish.

And now, the Grove is growing—because others like you are showing up with open hearts and big dreams too.

So if you’re here reading this—thank you.
You’re part of something that matters.

Love,
Aunt C’Anna

I invite you to practice with me:

🌿 Put one hand on your heart.
🌿 Feel the breath move in, and gently out.
🌿 Name 5 things you see.
🌿 Name 4 things you can touch.
🌿 Name 3 things you hear.
🌿 Name 2 things you can smell.
🌿 Name 1 thing you are thankful for.

Now say softly:
“I am safe to speak. I am safe to grow. I am allowed to feel joy.”

Even if your voice shakes, it’s still yours.
And I promise you—someone needs to hear what only you can say.

My eyes opened slowly, blinking away sleep. Everything shimmered softly, painted in dawnlight. Where was I? My heart fluttered in uncertainty—yet something warm stirred beneath it, like a song I once knew by heart.

The leaves around me leaned in gently, like old friends welcoming me home. In the distance, a river giggled—singing to itself, and somehow, to me. I felt its pull. A calling.

And then she stepped forward, cloaked in golden morning. “Welcome, Elowen Sagebelle,” she whispered. And in that moment, I knew—this wasn’t a beginning. It was a return.

🌸 “Oh no… this was Mother Charm’s teapot.”

The festival in Petal Pines was nearly ready — garlands woven, tea brewing, laughter drifting through the lavender fields. But in one careless moment, a treasured teapot slipped and shattered.

What followed wasn’t scolding, but softness.
A circle of friends. Golden resin. Gentle hands.
And the reminder that sometimes, the most beautiful things are those that have been lovingly mended.

“It won’t be the same,” Eucalyn said, “but different doesn’t mean less beautiful.”