Hi, I'm Lulu,
Welcome to Haven Harvest Living!
I'm an author, gardener, home cook, runner, and lifelong learner who believes that small, intentional steps can transform our lives. Through gardening, nourishing recipes, books, wellness, and honest reflections on healing, I hope to inspire others to cultivate health, hope, and joy—one season at a time.
These characters once occupied so much of my imagination that their world felt almost as real to me as my own. I knew their histories, their struggles, their love, and the forces that continued to pull them toward one another. Then, somewhere along the way, my motivation to write fiction faded.
I did not stop writing altogether. Much of my recent writing has been personal and reflective. I have been exploring healing, trauma, family, relationships, identity, and the experiences that shaped me. That kind of writing has been meaningful, but it requires a different part of me than fiction does.
For a while, I wondered whether I had lost my connection to the fantasy world I created.
The Story Was Still There
Even when I was not actively writing, Neri and Ezra never completely disappeared. Neither did Mami Wata, the ancient histories, the inherited gifts, or the mysteries connecting generations across time.
Their world remained somewhere in the background, quietly waiting.
Recently, new ideas began returning—not as complete chapters, but as questions, images, fragments, and possibilities. I started thinking more deeply about Mami Wata’s origins, the Eleven Suns, and the forgotten history that shaped the world Neri and Ezra inherited.
Then a possible title came to me:
The Forgotten Songs of the Eleven Suns.
The moment I heard it in my mind, something shifted. It felt mysterious, ancient, and connected to the mythology I have been building. More importantly, it sounded like the story was speaking to me again.
Returning Without Rushing
My first instinct was to begin making changes immediately. However, I realized that I need to spend time with the manuscript before attempting any major revisions.
I need to reread Book Two and reconnect with the characters as they already exist on the page. I want to remember who they were when I first wrote them, while also paying attention to who they may need to become.
Stories can change while their writers are away.
I have changed since I began creating this world. My understanding of love, grief, survival, family, faith, identity, and legacy has deepened. Those experiences will naturally influence how I see the characters and the choices they make.
That does not mean I need to dismantle everything I previously wrote. It simply means I can return with a clearer and more experienced perspective.
Creativity Has Its Own Seasons
Gardening has taught me that a quiet season does not mean nothing is growing. Some of the most important work happens beneath the soil, long before anything becomes visible.
Creativity can work the same way.
A story may appear dormant while its roots are stretching in directions we cannot yet see. Characters may remain silent until we have lived enough life to understand what they have been trying to tell us.
Perhaps I did not abandon this story. Perhaps I simply needed time to become the writer who could carry it forward.
For now, I am not placing pressure on myself to finish quickly. I am returning slowly—reading, listening, making notes, and allowing myself to feel curious again.
Neri and Ezra waited for me.
The Eleven Suns continued burning somewhere beyond the page.
And now, I am finally ready to listen for their forgotten songs.
CTA: Have you ever returned to a creative project after a long break? What helped you reconnect with it?
There’s something interesting about the garden this time of year. Summer isn’t completely gone, but fall has already started making itself at home.
Right now, Haven Harvest is somewhere in between.
Some of my summer plants are still hanging on and producing, while other beds have already been cleared and replanted for the cooler months. I’m learning that gardening doesn’t always have a clear beginning and ending. Sometimes one season simply grows into the next.
Making Room for the Fall Garden
For my fall garden, I’ve planted collard greens, spinach, cabbage, carrots, beets, and onions.
After a summer filled with tomatoes, cucumbers, corn, peppers, potatoes, sweet potatoes, and plenty of lessons, it feels good to see another round of seedlings and vegetables taking their place.
I especially love growing greens during the cooler months. Collards are already a regular part of the way I cook, and spinach is something I can use in everything from smoothies and tofu scrambles to soups and pasta dishes.
The carrots, beets, cabbage, and onions will require a little more patience, but patience is becoming one of the things this garden continues to teach me.
You plant something. You care for it. You wait.
And sometimes it grows exactly the way you expected.
Sometimes it doesn’t.
Either way, you learn something.
Summer Isn’t Finished Yet
Even while I’m planting for fall, a few members of the summer garden aren’t ready to leave.
I still have bell peppers and habanero peppers growing, along with my peanuts and sunchokes.
The sunchokes have been particularly fun because they’re one of the perennial crops I’m adding as I slowly work toward creating a garden that doesn’t have to be completely replanted every year.
I’m also waiting to see what my peanut plants have been doing underneath the soil all this time. That’s one of the funny things about growing root crops—you spend months caring for a plant without really knowing what’s happening underneath.
Eventually, you just have to dig and find out.
Taking the Garden to the Deck
I’m also experimenting with another growing space: my deck.
I’ve started working on growing herbs there, which will hopefully give me easy access to fresh herbs for cooking while also allowing me to make use of a space that wasn’t producing food before.
One of my long-term goals for Haven Harvest has been to look at my entire property differently.
Instead of asking, Where can I put a garden?
I’m beginning to ask, Where can I grow food?
A raised bed can grow vegetables. A container can grow herbs. A deck can become another little growing area. Fruit trees and berry bushes can become part of the landscape.
It doesn’t all have to happen at once.
Learning to Grow Through the Seasons
Every season in this garden has taught me something.
I’ve learned what I planted too close together. I’ve learned which vegetables thrive here and which ones struggle. I’ve learned that some plants will surprise me, some will disappoint me, and some will produce far more food than I know what to do with.
And now I’m learning how to extend the growing season instead of packing everything away once summer ends.
My ultimate vision for Haven Harvest is still the same: to create a productive little ecosystem around my home that provides a meaningful portion of the food my family eats.
I’m nowhere near finished.
But when I look outside and see summer peppers growing beside beds filled with fall vegetables—and herbs beginning on the deck—I can see that vision taking shape a little more each season.
For now, I’ll keep planting, experimenting, harvesting, and learning.
Because apparently, there really isn’t an “end” to gardening.
For me, the Virginia Women’s Institute for Leadership is one of those experiences.
When I arrived at Mary Baldwin and became part of VWIL, I knew I was joining something unusual. What I could not fully appreciate then was that I was becoming part of a history that was still being written.
Founded in 1995, the Virginia Women’s Institute for Leadership was created to develop women as leaders through academics, physical training, discipline, service, military training, and leadership education. Today, VWIL remains the only all-female corps of cadets in the United States.
Caption: The early years of the Virginia Women’s Institute for Leadership. Photo courtesy of Mary Baldwin University.
But programs like VWIL are not built by institutions alone.
They are built by people.
They are built by the people who believe in an idea before anyone knows whether it will succeed. They are built by the people willing to establish traditions where none existed before. And they are built by the people who invest themselves in the young women who will eventually carry those traditions forward.
One of the most important of those people was Dr. Brenda Bryant.
More Than an Advisor
Dr. Brenda L. Bryant, founding director of the Virginia Women’s Institute for Leadership. Photo courtesy of Mary Baldwin University
When I think about Dr. Brenda Bryant, I don’t simply remember an administrator or the founding director of VWIL.
I remember a mentor.
I remember a sounding board.
And I remember someone whose presence in my life did not simply end when my time as a cadet ended.
Caption: Dr. Brenda Bryant holding my second-born child during one of our visits to her office. Our relationship continued beyond my years as a VWIL cadet—a reminder that her mentorship often extended far beyond graduation. Photo from my personal collection.
I continued to visit Dr. Bryant after my years as a cadet. One of the photographs I treasure is of her holding my second-born child during one of those visits to her office.
Looking at that photograph now reminds me that the relationships formed through VWIL were never confined to formations, classrooms, or the years we spent at Mary Baldwin. For some of us, those relationships followed us into the next chapters of our lives.
Dr. Bryant was someone you could sit down with when you were facing a difficult question or struggling to figure out what to do next.
She would listen.
She would talk through the situation with you.
She would offer guidance.
But she didn’t necessarily give you the answer.
Instead, she would remind you to use the tools you had collected along the way.
Looking back, I understand how important that lesson was.
She wasn’t trying to create women who would always need someone else to tell them what to do. She was helping us learn how to trust what we had been taught, examine the situation in front of us, and make decisions for ourselves.
That is leadership.
She saw the individual woman underneath the uniform.
She listened.
She challenged us.
She advised us.
And she trusted that we were capable of finding our way.
Leadership was not simply something Dr. Bryant taught.
She practiced it.
She showed up.
The Heart and Soul of VWIL
Dr. Bryant once described the cadets themselves as the “heart and soul of the program.”
Those words still resonate.
Because VWIL has always been more than uniforms, formations, inspections, parades, physical training, and military traditions.
Those things are part of it.
But they are not the whole story.
VWIL Corps of Cadets during the 2015 Change of Command parade. Photo courtesy of Mary Baldwin University.
VWIL is about discovering what happens when you are tired and still have responsibilities.
It is about learning that leadership does not always mean being the loudest person in the room.
It is learning how to lead and how to follow.
It is accountability.
It is service.
It is sisterhood.
And sometimes it is learning to stop, look at everything you have experienced and everything you have been taught, and ask yourself:
What tools do I already have to handle this?
The words Truth, Duty, Honor become more than words when you spend years being challenged to live according to them.
More Than a Uniform
When you are a cadet, it can be difficult to see beyond the immediate experience.
There is always another responsibility.
Another formation.
Another class.
Another challenge.
Another standard you are expected to meet.
But eventually, you graduate.
You take off the uniform.
And life presents challenges that no training manual could have predicted.
There is no advisor standing beside you.
There is no handbook telling you exactly what to do.
There isn’t always an obvious right answer.
Those are the moments when you discover what your education truly gave you.
You reach into that collection of tools you have gathered throughout your life and decide which one the situation requires.
More than two decades after my own time as a cadet, I still carry some of those tools with me.
And I still carry Dr. Bryant’s lesson with me.
Watching the Legacy Continue
Perhaps one of the most meaningful things about VWIL for me today is realizing that its story did not end when my class graduated.
We became part of its foundation.
Other women came behind us.
And then other women came behind them.
Today, I have the extraordinary experience of watching my own daughter walk the same campus and become part of the same Corps of Cadets that helped shape me.
Present-day VWIL Corps of Cadets: The legacy continues. Today’s VWIL Corps of Cadets carries forward a tradition of leadership, service, discipline, and sisterhood. Photo from my personal collection
There is something difficult to put into words about watching the next generation step into a tradition you once carried yourself.
The uniforms change.
The cadets change.
The world changes.
But the responsibility to develop women who understand leadership, service, integrity, courage, and accountability continues.
My daughter is having her own VWIL experience.
She is facing her own challenges.
She is developing her own understanding of leadership.
And she is collecting her own tools along the way.
That is legacy.
nULL Induction Parade 2026- Current VWIL Staff
Remembering Dr. Brenda Bryant
Dr. Bryant died in 2012 after battling breast cancer, but her presence remains intertwined with the story of VWIL.
The Brenda Bryant Memorial 5K Run/Walk gives alumni, cadets, families, friends, and community members an opportunity to come together and honor her life and legacy while supporting the next generation of VWIL cadets through the Brenda Bryant Memorial Scholarship.
We will run.
We will walk.
We will remember.
But more importantly, we will continue.
Because perhaps the greatest tribute we can give someone who dedicated so much of herself to developing leaders is to make sure the work continues long after she is gone.
The Women Who Carry It Forward
VWIL began in 1995.
More than three decades later, the Corps is still here.
Caption: VWIL’s Change of Command parade symbolizes both transition and continuity as one generation of cadet leaders passes responsibility to the next. Photo courtesy of Mary Baldwin University.
Generations of women have marched across Mary Baldwin’s campus.
They have completed Wilderness.
They have endured early mornings.
They have pushed through physical training.
They have learned to lead their peers and to be accountable to one another.
They have served their communities.
They have graduated, commissioned into the military, entered civilian careers, raised families, built organizations, and carried pieces of VWIL into communities around the world.
We are no longer simply cadets standing in formation.
We are alumnae.
We are mothers.
We are military officers and veterans.
We are professionals, educators, public servants, advocates, entrepreneurs, community leaders, and so much more.
And now some of us have the privilege of watching our daughters become cadets themselves.
They did not simply create a four-year college program.
They created something capable of surviving beyond them.
They created a legacy.
Truth. Duty. Honor.
Leaders of VWIL, past and present: (bottom row, l-r) The late Brig. Gen. Michael Bissell served as the first commandant of VWIL, and the late Brenda Bryant served as the first program director. (top row, l-r) Brig. Gen. Terry Djuric is the current commandant of cadets, and Command Sergeant Major Gerald Johnson was the second senior enlisted advisor. Photo courtesy of Mary Baldwin University.
When I think about VWIL now, I don’t think only about what happened during my years at Mary Baldwin.
I think about the women who came before me.
I think about the women who stood beside me.
I think about the women who came after us.
And now, I think about my daughter and the young women standing in formation today.
We are separated by years, experiences, and generations, but we belong to the same story.
Dr. Brenda Bryant helped write the opening chapters of that story.
Those of us who had the privilege of knowing her carry pieces of her with us—in lessons, conversations, moments of encouragement, and in that quiet reminder to use the tools we have collected along the way.
Today’s cadets are now writing their own chapter.
Someday, they will take off their uniforms too.
They will step into careers, families, communities, and lives that will present challenges none of us can predict.
And when those moments come, I hope they remember what generations of VWIL women have learned:
You may not have all the answers.
You may not know exactly what comes next.
But somewhere along the journey, you have been collecting tools.
Trust yourself enough to use them.
That is why preserving VWIL matters.
That is why remembering Dr. Brenda Bryant matters.
And that is why, when we gather for the Brenda Bryant Memorial 5K, we are celebrating far more than a race.
We are honoring a woman.
We are celebrating a Corps.
We are preserving a legacy.
And we are reminding the next generation of VWIL women that the story is now theirs to carry forward.
These savory vegan empanadas combine crumbled tofu, mushrooms, artichoke hearts, peppers and warm spices with a little heat from fresh habanero. Instead of deep-frying, they’re cooked in the air fryer for a crisp, golden exterior with a hearty plant-based filling.
A note from Lulu’s Kitchen: This is one of the recipes currently on my to-make list. I didn’t get a chance to prepare and photograph it before this week’s post, but the combination sounded too good not to share. Once I make my first batch, I’ll come back with photos and any little adjustments I discover along the way.
Ingredients
For the filling
1 block (14–16 oz) extra-firm tofu, pressed and crumbled
8 oz mushrooms, finely chopped
½–1 cup artichoke hearts, well drained and chopped
½ bell pepper, finely diced
½ medium onion, finely diced
2–3 cloves garlic, minced
1–2 teaspoons fresh ginger, grated
Habanero pepper, very finely minced, to taste
1 teaspoon smoked paprika
1 teaspoon ground cumin
½ teaspoon dried thyme
½ teaspoon black pepper
Salt, to taste
1–2 tablespoons soy sauce or tamari
1–2 tablespoons nutritional yeast, optional
1 tablespoon olive or avocado oil for sautéing, or a splash of vegetable broth for an oil-free filling
For assembling
Empanada wrappers
A small amount of plant milk or oil for brushing
Instructions
1. Prepare the tofu. Press the tofu to remove as much excess moisture as possible, then crumble it into small pieces. Removing the extra liquid will help keep the empanada filling from becoming soggy.
2. Cook the mushrooms. Heat a large skillet over medium heat. Add the finely chopped mushrooms and cook until they release their liquid and most of the moisture has evaporated.
3. Build the filling. Add the onion and bell pepper and sauté until they begin to soften. Stir in the garlic, ginger and finely minced habanero and cook for another minute, until fragrant.
Add the crumbled tofu, smoked paprika, cumin, thyme, black pepper, salt and soy sauce or tamari. Add nutritional yeast, if using.
Cook for several minutes, stirring occasionally, until everything is well combined and the mixture is flavorful but fairly dry.
4. Add the artichokes. Fold in the chopped artichoke hearts during the last couple of minutes of cooking. Keeping them until the end helps preserve some of their texture.
Remove the skillet from the heat and allow the filling to cool completely before assembling the empanadas.
5. Fill and seal. Place an empanada wrapper on a flat surface and spoon a small amount of filling into the center. Be careful not to overfill.
Fold the wrapper over to create a half-moon shape. Press the edges together firmly and crimp with a fork to seal.
6. Air-fry. Preheat the air fryer to 375°F.
Lightly brush the empanadas with plant milk or a small amount of oil. Arrange them in a single layer in the air-fryer basket, leaving a little space between each one.
Air-fry for approximately 8–12 minutes, flipping halfway through if your air fryer browns unevenly.
They’re ready when the outside is crisp and beautifully golden.
Serving Ideas
Serve these warm with avocado or guacamole, fresh salsa, cilantro-lime sauce or a creamy vegan dipping sauce.
For anyone who doesn’t enjoy much heat, reduce or omit the habanero. If you’re like me and enjoy a little kick, adjust it to your taste.
Lulu’s Kitchen Tip
Moisture is the enemy of a crispy empanada. Drain the artichokes thoroughly, press the tofu well and give the mushrooms enough time to release their water. Also, don’t skip cooling the filling before stuffing the wrappers.
Once I make my first batch, I’ll update this recipe with photos and let you know whether anything changes after the official Lulu’s Kitchen taste test.
I have been writing a lot lately, but probably not in the way people imagine when I tell them that I write.
I haven’t been working much on fiction. In fact, I haven’t felt particularly motivated to return to my fictional stories for some time. The characters are still there. The stories haven’t disappeared. I simply haven’t felt the pull to enter those worlds again.
Instead, most of my writing lately has been reflective.
Deeply reflective.
I’ve been writing about memories, experiences, relationships, questions, things I understand now that I didn’t understand years ago, and probably a few things I’m still trying to understand.
Some of it may eventually find its way into something I publish.
Most of it probably won’t.
And I’m beginning to realize that I’m okay with that.
Writing Without an Audience
There is an interesting shift that happens when you stop asking, Would someone want to read this?
You start asking different questions.
What am I actually trying to say?
Why do I remember this?
Why does this still matter to me?
What do I understand differently now?
There is freedom in writing something that doesn’t have to become a blog post, a memoir, a novel, or anything else.
Sometimes the page can simply be the place where a thought gets to exist.
For someone who loves writing, that may sound obvious. But we live in a time when we’re constantly encouraged to turn the things we create into something—content, a product, a brand, a finished project.
I’m learning that some words don’t need an audience.
Sometimes writing is simply a conversation with yourself.
Returning to Old Books
Interestingly, while my desire to write fiction has been quiet, my desire to read hasn’t disappeared.
I’ve found myself returning to books I’ve read before.
Right now, I’m rereading two very different works: Albert Camus’s The Stranger and the Book of Enoch.
Putting those two titles next to each other makes me smile a little because they couldn’t appear more different.
One is a twentieth-century novel often associated with questions of absurdity, alienation, meaning, and the human condition.
The other is an ancient religious text filled with visions, angels, judgment, heavenly realms, and questions about humanity’s relationship with the divine.
And somehow, I find both fascinating.
Maybe that isn’t as strange a pairing as it initially seems.
Both make me stop.
Both make me question things.
Both make me think about what it means to be human and how people throughout history have tried to understand existence, morality, death, judgment, and our place in a world that doesn’t always make sense.
I don’t necessarily read because I expect a book to give me answers.
Sometimes I read because I appreciate a book that gives me better questions.
The Book Changes Because the Reader Does
There is another reason I’ve come to appreciate rereading.
The words on the page haven’t changed.
I have.
A book I read at twenty may not feel like the same book when I read it in my forties. Experiences accumulate. Beliefs evolve. Certainties become questions, and sometimes questions eventually become a different kind of certainty.
Things I once skimmed over suddenly stop me.
Ideas I accepted without much thought now make me pause.
And passages I once thought I understood can take on an entirely different meaning.
Maybe that is one of the beautiful things about books.
I had been dealing with pain from an old ankle injury, and after seeing my doctor, I made the difficult decision to step away from running for a few weeks. At the time, resting felt frustrating. When you’re training toward a goal, every missed run can feel like you’re falling behind.
But eventually, it was time to lace my shoes back up.
And this time, the lesson was about trusting myself enough to run smart.
Ten Miles After a Long Night
Going into my scheduled 10-mile run, I had a few concerns.
For starters, I had just finished working a 10-hour overnight shift. I was worried about how much energy I would have once I got out there.
I was also thinking about the training time I’d lost while allowing my ankle to recover. Ten miles is a substantial distance under normal circumstances. Coming back from an injury made it feel even more significant.
There was a part of me that wanted this run to prove that I hadn’t lost anything.
But I also knew that trying to prove something was probably the quickest way to undo the recovery work I’d already done.
So I made a decision before I really got going:
Run smart.
The First Three Miles Were About Patience
I started the first three miles at a conservative pace and treated them almost like an extended warm-up.
Instead of worrying about what my pace looked like or trying to make up for lost training time, I paid attention to how my body felt.
How did my ankle feel?
How was my breathing?
How was my energy after being awake and working all night?
As the miles passed and my body warmed up, I gradually increased my pace. Eventually, I found a rhythm that felt manageable and settled into it.
And then came the hills.
I Needed the Hills
I deliberately included hills in this run.
Not because I wanted to make an already challenging 10 miles harder, but because hills are part of running—and they’re definitely part of preparing for the Richmond Half Marathon.
I needed to know where I was in my recovery.
The hills gave me an opportunity to test my strength without turning the entire run into a test of how much discomfort I could tolerate.
That distinction has become increasingly important to me.
There is a difference between challenging your body and punishing it.
For a long time, I think I associated progress with pushing harder. Run faster. Go farther. Tough it out. Finish no matter what.
But sometimes progress looks completely different.
Sometimes progress is having enough discipline to hold back.
I Could Have Pushed Harder
During the final few miles, something surprising happened.
I realized I still had more left in the tank.
I could have increased my pace. I could have pushed harder and tried to finish the run with everything I had.
And for a moment, that was tempting.
Instead, I stayed conservative.
This wasn’t race day. There was no medal waiting for me at the end. I didn’t need to prove that I could empty the tank.
The purpose of this run was to continue rebuilding.
So I finished knowing that I probably could have done more.
And strangely enough, I’m proud of that.
Rest Didn’t Take Away My Progress
One of my biggest fears when I had to stop running was that I would lose everything I’d worked for.
I didn’t.
My body remembered.
My endurance was still there.
And perhaps more importantly, I came back with a little more respect for what my body had been asking of me.
My previous lesson was learning when to rest.
This one was learning how to come back.
Neither lesson is particularly glamorous. Neither one produces the kind of numbers we runners like to post and celebrate.
But both are part of becoming a stronger runner.
The Richmond Half Marathon Is Still Ahead
There is still work to do before Richmond.
I want to continue building my endurance, strengthening my ankle, getting more comfortable on hills, and gradually improving my pace.
But that 10-mile run gave me something I needed even more than a fast time.
Confidence.
Not the confidence that comes from proving I can push through anything.
The confidence that comes from knowing I can listen to my body, adjust when necessary, and still keep moving toward my goal.
I’m learning that training isn’t about winning every workout.
It’s about putting enough good days together to arrive at the starting line healthy, prepared, and ready to run.
There are some meals you make because everyone needs to eat, some because you’re trying to use what you have in the refrigerator, and some because you’ve planned them carefully.
And then there are the meals you make simply because you want them.
This was one of those meals.
On a day that felt like the perfect summer day, I decided that dinner was going to be just for me. No worrying about what anyone else wanted to eat. No trying to accommodate different tastes. I wanted breakfast for dinner—because, quite frankly, I love breakfast. I could probably eat breakfast foods every day if I allowed myself to.
So that is exactly what I made: strawberry almond milk pancakes, a colorful tofu and vegetable scramble, fresh cantaloupe from my garden, and a cold lavender-lemonade tea.
It was completely plant-based, wonderfully colorful, surprisingly light, and exactly what I wanted.
A Little Bit of Haven Harvest on My Plate
One of my favorite parts of this meal wasn’t something complicated at all.
It was the cantaloupe.
I had two fresh cantaloupes sitting on my kitchen counter that I had grown myself. There is still something incredibly satisfying about growing food, bringing it into my kitchen, and eventually seeing it on my plate.
Gardening requires patience. You plant something, tend to it, watch it grow, worry about it when the weather doesn’t cooperate, and hope that eventually all of that care produces something you can eat.
This time, it did.
I simply sliced the cantaloupes and served some alongside my dinner. They didn’t need anything else.
Garden to kitchen to plate.
That’s one of the things I love most about growing my own food.
Colorful Tofu Scramble
For the savory part of my breakfast-for-dinner plate, I made a tofu scramble loaded with vegetables.
Ingredients
½ block extra-firm tofu, drained and crumbled
1 large carrot, thinly shredded
½ red onion, thinly sliced
6 medium colorful sweet peppers, thinly sliced
About 1 tablespoon olive oil
1 tablespoon nutritional yeast
½ teaspoon freshly grated ginger
Seasoning salt, to taste
Black pepper, to taste
Paprika, to taste
Turmeric, to taste
Directions
Heat about a tablespoon of olive oil in a skillet over low to medium heat.
Add the shredded carrot, sliced red onion, and sweet peppers. Season the vegetables with nutritional yeast, seasoning salt, black pepper, paprika, turmeric, and freshly grated ginger.
Sauté the vegetables for about 5 minutes, allowing them to soften while still retaining some texture and color.
Crumble the extra-firm tofu directly into the skillet and stir everything together until the tofu is evenly coated with the seasonings.
Continue cooking over low to medium heat for approximately 10 minutes, stirring occasionally.
The turmeric gives the tofu that familiar golden scramble color, while the nutritional yeast adds a savory flavor. The vegetables bring a little sweetness and plenty of color to the plate.
Strawberry Almond Milk Pancakes
The pancakes started with something I really didn’t want to waste: about half a cup of strawberries in my refrigerator that had become overripe.
Instead of throwing them away, I decided they would become the base for my pancakes.
Ingredients
About ½ cup overripe strawberries
1 cup unsweetened almond milk
1½ cups all-purpose flour
⅛ cup cane sugar
1 teaspoon baking powder
¼ teaspoon baking soda
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
Directions
Add the strawberries and almond milk to a blender and purée until smooth. I used my Bullet blender, which worked perfectly for this small amount.
In a mixing bowl, combine the flour, cane sugar, baking powder, and baking soda.
Pour in the strawberry-almond milk mixture, then add the olive oil and vanilla.
Mix until everything is incorporated, being careful not to overmix the batter.
I let the batter sit for a few minutes while my skillet warmed. This gave the batter a little time to settle before cooking.
Cook the pancakes on a heated skillet, flipping once the first side is set and bubbles begin forming, and continue until both sides are lightly browned and the pancakes are cooked through.
The puréed strawberries gave the pancakes a subtle fruitiness while also giving those overripe berries a purpose instead of letting them go to waste.
And Something Special to Drink
To finish the meal, I made a lavender and lemonade tea mixture using tea I had purchased several months earlier.
It turned out to be the perfect pairing.
The floral lavender and brightness of the lemonade complemented the sweetness of the pancakes and cantaloupe while keeping the entire meal feeling light and summery.
Sometimes the drink you didn’t particularly plan around the meal ends up being exactly what the meal needed.
Cooking for One Doesn’t Have to Mean “Just” Cooking for One
I think this was my favorite part of the evening.
This was a solo dinner.
I wasn’t making something for my children. I wasn’t trying to figure out what everyone else would eat. I wasn’t preparing food because it was expected of me.
I made something I wanted to eat, just for myself.
There can be a temptation when we’re cooking for one person to make the quickest possible thing—or not bother cooking at all. I’ve certainly had those days.
But cooking for yourself can also be an act of care.
It doesn’t have to be elaborate. This certainly wasn’t. I used strawberries that needed to be eaten, vegetables I already had, half a block of tofu, fruit from my garden, and tea that had been sitting in my pantry.
But I put them together into a plate that was colorful, nourishing, plant-based, and made specifically for me.
There was something lovely about sitting down on what felt like a perfect summer day with my breakfast-for-dinner plate and realizing:
I didn’t need a special occasion—or another person at the table—to make myself a beautiful meal.
And yes, given the opportunity, I will probably always choose breakfast for dinner.
This quick, colorful noodle dish is packed with plant-based protein and fresh vegetables. It is perfect for meal prep or for using whatever vegetables you already have on hand.
Ingredients
½ package whole-wheat noodles
1 package extra-firm tofu, drained and cubed
5 mini sweet peppers, sliced
3 scallions, chopped
1 red onion, sliced
1 large carrot, grated or thinly sliced
Fresh ginger, grated
Red pepper flakes, to taste
Seasoned salt, to taste
Soy sauce, to taste
Sweet seasoned cooking vinegar, to taste
A small amount of oil for cooking
Instructions
Cook the whole-wheat noodles according to the package directions. Drain and set aside.
Heat a small amount of oil in a large skillet. Add the tofu and cook until the pieces are browned and slightly crisp on the outside. Remove the tofu from the skillet and set it aside.
Add the red onion, sweet peppers, carrot, scallions, and freshly grated ginger to the same skillet. Sauté until the vegetables are tender but still have a little bite.
Season the vegetables with red pepper flakes, seasoned salt, soy sauce, and sweet seasoned cooking vinegar.
Return the tofu to the skillet, add the cooked noodles, and toss everything together until evenly coated and heated through.
Taste and adjust the seasonings as needed before serving.
This made a satisfying, flavorful meal with chewy whole-wheat noodles, crisp vegetables, and golden pieces of tofu—and it reheated beautifully for meal prep.
There is something incredibly satisfying about standing in your kitchen and realizing that so much of the food sitting in front of you came from just outside your door.
This summer, Haven Harvest Garden gave me tomatoes, cucumbers, peppers, herbs, corn, sweet potatoes, melons and plenty of surprises along the way.
Some things grew exactly as I hoped they would.
Some things didn’t.
And some things seemed to have plans of their own.
Looking at everything I’ve harvested over the past few months, I realize that may be one of the things I love most about gardening: you can make all the plans you want, but the garden still has plans of its own.
When the Garden Gives You More Than You Expected
There were days this summer when I would walk outside thinking I was just going to check on the garden and somehow come back inside carrying tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers, herbs or sweet potatoes.
And the tomatoes!
So. Many. Tomatoes.
At one point, I had an entire pan covered with tomatoes of every size and at different stages of ripeness.
Some were perfectly round. Others weren’t.
Some were tiny. Some were huge.
And I loved every imperfect one.
Growing my own food continues to remind me how accustomed we’ve become to seeing perfectly shaped produce at the grocery store. But real food doesn’t always look like that.
A tomato doesn’t have to be perfectly round to be delicious.
Neither does a pepper.
Neither does a sweet potato.
The garden doesn’t care about appearances. It simply grows.
The Mystery Melon 🍈
Then there was the melon.
I wasn’t entirely sure what I had growing in my garden.
From the outside, it looked like a cantaloupe. When I finally harvested one and cut it open, there was that beautiful orange flesh that made me think I’d solved the mystery.
Then I tasted it.
It tasted more like honeydew.
Whatever my mystery melon decided to be, it was delicious.
And honestly, I think the mystery made it even better.
There was something fun about watching something grow without being entirely sure what I was going to get in the end.
The melon plants certainly weren’t shy, either.
They spread.
And spread.
And spread some more.
Which brings me to my peanuts.
Somewhere Under Those Melons Are My Peanuts 🥜
I decided to try growing peanuts this year, and technically, I succeeded.
They grew!
The problem was that my melon vines apparently had much bigger ambitions.
As the melons took off, their vines spread through the garden and eventually overtook the area where my peanuts were growing.
So now I have absolutely no idea what kind of peanut harvest I’m going to get.
There may be a wonderful little crop developing underneath the soil.
There may be five peanuts down there.
I genuinely don’t know.
For now, that part of the Haven Harvest story is simply:
To be continued…
And perhaps that’s gardening in its purest form.
Sometimes you plant something, do your best, and wait to see what the earth gives back.
Sweet Potatoes: A Harvest Above and Below the Soil
My sweet potatoes were another highlight of this year’s garden.
Of course, I was growing them for the sweet potatoes themselves, but I also discovered how much I could enjoy the plant before it was ever time to dig beneath the soil.
I harvested the sweet potato leaves and used them to make plasas, connecting something growing in my Virginia backyard with the Sierra Leonean foods that are part of my heritage.
That made this particular crop feel even more special.
There is something powerful about walking outside, harvesting food with your own hands, carrying it into your kitchen and turning it into something that connects you to another place and another generation.
And then came the actual sweet potato harvest.
Digging for root vegetables always feels a little like a treasure hunt.
You know they’re supposed to be under there.
But you don’t really know what you’ve grown until you start digging.
And this year, there was plenty of treasure waiting beneath the soil.
The Cabbage Battle I Definitely Did Not Win
Of course, not everything in Haven Harvest flourished.
My cabbage is proof of that.
Remember those little bugs I found all over my cucumbers?
Well, apparently they weren’t finished with me.
They eventually took over my cabbage too, and unfortunately, that battle did not end in my favor.
Gardening has a way of humbling you.
You can spend weeks nurturing a plant, watching new leaves emerge and imagining what you’re eventually going to harvest—and then a tiny insect shows up with completely different plans.
This year, the bugs won the cabbage.
Next year, I’ll be better prepared.
I’m learning that recognizing problems earlier, paying closer attention to vulnerable plants and having a plan for protecting them are just as much a part of gardening as planting seeds and harvesting vegetables.
The cabbage wasn’t necessarily a failure.
It was information.
And information is something I can take into the next growing season.
Corn, Cucumbers, Peppers and Everything in Between
Not every crop produced the same amount, and that’s okay too.
I’m beginning to understand that gardening success doesn’t have to mean producing enough food to feed your family for an entire year.
Sometimes success is walking outside and picking a cucumber for dinner.
Sometimes it’s grabbing a handful of herbs.
Sometimes it’s watching a pepper finally change color after checking it every day for what feels like forever.
Sometimes it’s harvesting ears of corn that started as tiny seeds pushed into the soil months earlier.
And sometimes it’s standing in your kitchen looking at containers overflowing with produce and thinking:
I grew that.
There is a particular kind of pride that comes from growing your own food.
Not because every vegetable is perfect.
Not because everything you planted survived.
But because you participated in the process.
You planted.
You watered.
You waited.
You worried.
You fought bugs.
You pulled weeds.
You wondered whether something was ever going to produce.
And eventually, you harvested.
The Garden Is Always Teaching Me
Every gardening season teaches me something.
Some plants thrive.
Some struggle.
Some seeds never germinate.
Some plants appear where I don’t remember planting anything at all.
Some plants apparently believe the entire garden belongs to them. I’m looking at you, melons.
There are pests.
There are weeds.
There are ridiculously hot Virginia days when watering the garden feels like one more thing on an already very long to-do list.
There are moments when I wonder whether all the work is worth it.
Then harvest day comes.
I carry the food inside.
And I remember why I started.
Haven Harvest Garden isn’t perfect.
I’m still learning. I’m still experimenting. I’m still figuring out what grows best in my space and how I want this little backyard ecosystem to develop.
But every year, it feels a little more established.
A little more productive.
And a little more like mine.
From Summer Harvest to Fall Garden 🍂
Now summer is beginning to wind down, but Haven Harvest Garden isn’t finished.
It’s simply changing seasons.
Soon I’ll begin transitioning parts of the garden for cooler weather and deciding what will take the place of the summer plants as they finish producing.
And, because apparently I can’t resist experimenting with something new, I’m especially excited about trying leeks.
There will be another round of planting.
Another round of waiting.
Probably another battle with something that wants to eat my vegetables before I do.
And undoubtedly another round of surprises.
But that’s okay.
Because I’m beginning to realize that gardening isn’t really about controlling what happens.
It’s about creating the conditions for something to grow, nurturing it the best you can, and then paying attention to what happens next.
Maybe that’s why I keep coming back to it.
There is always another seed to plant.
Another lesson hiding beneath the soil.
Another season coming.
And sometimes, if you’re lucky, you end up standing at your dining-room table looking at a pile of food you grew yourself and thinking:
One thing I have learned about trying to maintain healthier habits is that good intentions only get me so far. When life gets busy—and especially when I am working long shifts—it becomes much harder to make thoughtful decisions about what I am going to eat.
That is where meal prep has become incredibly helpful for me.
Preparing some of my meals ahead of time saves me time during the workweek, helps me spend less money on food while I am out, and, most importantly, makes it easier for me to stay on track with my health goals. Instead of waiting until I am tired and hungry to figure out what to eat, I already have something nourishing waiting for me.
Lately, one of my favorite meals to take to work has been these quinoa bowls.
They aren’t complicated or particularly fancy. They’re simply a combination of foods I enjoy: seasoned quinoa, roasted sweet potato, black beans, edamame, stewed peppers and onions, and a slightly sweet and tangy tahini dressing.
The result is colorful, filling, plant-forward, and surprisingly satisfying.
Cooking Without Measuring Everything
If you have followed my cooking for a while, you probably already know that I don’t always measure my seasonings.
I cook by tasting, smelling, looking, and adjusting as I go. A little more garlic here. A sprinkle of nutritional yeast there. Maybe a little more seasoning if something needs it.
That’s how I made these bowls.
So while I have included measurements where I remember them, consider this recipe a starting point rather than a strict formula. Taste your food as you cook and make it your own.
My Meal-Prep Quinoa Bowls
For the Bowls
1 very large sweet potato, peeled if desired and cubed
Quinoa, rinsed and cooked according to package directions
1 can black beans, drained and rinsed
Edamame, cooked according to package directions
Bell peppers, sliced
Onion, sliced
Fresh ginger, grated or minced
Fresh garlic, grated
Seasoned salt, to taste
Turmeric, to taste
Nutritional yeast, to taste
Oil, as needed
Roast the Sweet Potato
Preheat the oven to 400°F.
Toss the cubed sweet potato with a little oil, seasoned salt, grated garlic, turmeric, and nutritional yeast.
Spread the cubes in a single layer on a baking sheet and roast for approximately 25–35 minutes, turning them about halfway through cooking. The sweet potatoes are ready when they are tender inside and beginning to brown around the edges.
Prepare the Quinoa
Rinse the quinoa thoroughly before cooking.
Cook according to the package directions, adding seasoned salt, garlic, turmeric, and nutritional yeast to give the quinoa some flavor as it cooks.
Once the quinoa is tender and the liquid has been absorbed, fluff it with a fork and adjust the seasoning to taste.
Season the Black Beans
Drain and rinse the black beans.
Warm them with seasoned salt, garlic, turmeric, nutritional yeast, and a small amount of oil if desired. You don’t need to do much to them—the goal is simply to make sure every part of the bowl has flavor.
Make the Pepper and Onion Mixture
Add a small amount of oil to a pan and cook the sliced bell peppers and onions with fresh ginger and garlic.
Season with seasoned salt, turmeric, and nutritional yeast.
Allow the vegetables to cook until they are tender and flavorful while still retaining some texture.
Prepare the Edamame
Cook the edamame according to the package directions and set aside for assembling the bowls.
Maple-Ginger Tahini Dressing
This might be my favorite part.
The tahini makes the dressing creamy, apple cider vinegar adds some acidity, maple syrup gives it just enough sweetness, and the ginger and red pepper flakes add warmth.
Ingredients
2 tablespoons tahini
2 teaspoons apple cider vinegar
1 teaspoon maple syrup
Seasoned salt, to taste
Ginger powder, to taste
Red pepper flakes, to taste
A dash of turmeric
Water, as needed
Make the Dressing
Whisk together the tahini, apple cider vinegar, maple syrup, seasoned salt, ginger powder, red pepper flakes, and turmeric.
Add water a little at a time, whisking after each addition, until the dressing reaches a smooth, pourable consistency.
Taste it.
If it needs more sweetness, add a little maple syrup. If you want more tang, add another splash of apple cider vinegar. If you like some heat, don’t be afraid of those red pepper flakes.
Putting the Bowls Together
Divide the quinoa among your meal-prep containers and add portions of roasted sweet potato, black beans, edamame, and the pepper-and-onion mixture.
I prefer to keep the tahini dressing separate and drizzle it over the bowl when I am ready to eat.
And that’s it.
Several components require a little preparation, but they can all be cooking around the same time. Once everything is finished, I have meals ready to grab before heading to work.
Make It Your Own
One of the things I love most about meals like this is that you don’t really need to follow the same recipe every week.
Think of the quinoa bowl as a framework.
Use chickpeas instead of black beans. Swap quinoa for brown or wild rice. Roast whatever vegetables you already have in the refrigerator. Add greens. Change the peppers. Toss in vegetables from the garden when they’re in season.
You can build the bowl around what you have.
That also makes meals like this a good way to use food before it goes to waste.
Making the Healthy Choice the Easy Choice
I am learning that taking care of myself doesn’t always have to involve making some enormous change.
Sometimes it looks like spending a little time preparing food before the workweek begins.
Meal prepping doesn’t guarantee that I will eat perfectly—and I’m not trying to eat perfectly. It simply removes one decision from an already busy day.
When I’m tired, hungry, or rushing to get ready for work, I don’t have to rely on willpower. I can open the refrigerator, grab something I already prepared, and know that I am giving my body a meal that will actually nourish me.
For me, that is what sustainable healthy eating is beginning to look like.
Not perfection.
Preparation.
And a really good quinoa bowl doesn’t hurt either.
