Some things will never fit the classroom

They demand sky. Weather.
Room to change.
Not bright halls, but a den.
I am one of them.

My name is Romy. I write, photograph, and make art with the land. My partner, our dog, and I share a home in the forest and another one in the heart of the city. People often look puzzled when I tell them. But the two homes have never felt like the strange part to me.

What felt strange was trying to picture myself in the life I was supposed to want. I always knew I wanted something different, even when I couldn’t yet say what it was.

In 2017, I set out on what was meant to be a six-week long-distance hike. But then one trail led to another. Weeks became years, and the miles added up to more than ten thousand.

As the landscapes around me shifted, so did the shape of my questions and what I thought I was searching for.

I cannot tell you where it happened but the wind moving through tall grass had something to do with it. I learned more from rivers than from rules. Other teachers had hands. Hooves. Wings. Roots.

They helped me see that I was already part of the wider weave of life and led me back to wonder. I owe them more than I know how to name.

These days, I wonder less about where I fit and more about what I can make room for.

Root & Antler is the den where I lay down what I am gathering—and what continues to gather me.