Hello — I’m Rachel.

I write folkloric fiction and personal essays from a creaky old farmhouse in the Shenandoah Valley, where the Blue Ridge holds the horizon and the garden mostly forgives me.

My work tells slow, small stories — centered on relationships, grounded in stirring plot, and rooted in the holiness of ordinary days. I believe we live in a world of already and not yet, and that meaning is something you make with your hands: bread, gardens, quilts, sentences.

Every other week I send a letter — essays, recipes, gardening, and handcrafts that speak to a slow, small life filled with meaning. It’s the truest introduction I can offer.

I’m currently at work on a novel, The Flower Farm at the End of the World, and a novella set in the same fields.

Read the letters →