05/15/2026
š¤ Who is āThe Widow?ā š¤
A funny thing has happened while building Western Gothic Life.
Somewhere between haunted courthouses, nervous-system gardening, suspiciously opinionated cats, emotionally unavailable dates, witchcraft, history rabbit holes, and shouting āHOW DID I GET MULCH IN MY BUTT CRACK?ā into the voidā¦
ā¦this woman appeared.
A caricature.
A slightly exaggerated version of me.
The widow.
The witch.
The gardener.
The paranormal investigator.
The woman rebuilding a life she never expected to have.
She drinks tea with ghosts (metaphoricallyā¦ mostly), researches forgotten history, talks to chickens like tiny feathered criminals, gardens like her nervous system depends on it, and occasionally attempts modern courtship with the bravery of someone wandering into a haunted mine shaft holding only a lantern and mild optimism.
And the truth isā¦
She belongs here.
Because Western Gothic Life was never meant to be just about haunted places.
Itās about what it means to rebuild something meaningful after loss.
To laugh again.
To grow things.
To stay curious.
To find beauty in old places, hard seasons, ordinary rituals, and the strange little moments that somehow keep us going.
And I want to quietly dedicate this strange, beautiful little corner of the internet to my late husband, Jason.
He loved my gothic witchy weirdness.
He encouraged my curiosity, my spooky side, my love of old things and strange stories.
And while this life looks very different than the one we imagined, I have a feeling heād be smiling (and probably laughing) watching me becomeā¦ whatever this wonderfully odd thing is.
A slightly feral widow in black lace, planting herbs, chasing ghosts, and trying to figure out modern dating without summoning demons.
(Though honestly, the jury is still out on some of these dating apps.)
Soā¦
Welcome to The Widowās Field Notes.
Weāre rebuilding a life here.
Beautifully. Imperfectly. Sometimes with dirt under our nails.
