Our Little Nook Apothecary LLC

Our Little Nook Apothecary LLC Preserving Cultural Practices & Plant Remedies
our-littlenook.myshopify.com This is more than medicine—it’s remembrance.

Our Little Nook Apothecary is a sacred herbal wellness brand rooted in ancestral Mexican healing, plant spirit medicine, and ancient wind wisdom. Founded by yerbera Erica Hernandez, we craft small-batch tinctures, teas, salves, oils, candles, and spiritual tools that honor the traditions of curanderismo, earth-based ritual, and intuitive healing. Each remedy is prepared with intention, guided by ceremony, and aligned with the rhythms of nature. From spiritual limpias and chakra balancing to breathwork and full moon rituals, our offerings support those seeking soulful reconnection, energetic balance, and holistic wellness. A return to the wisdom of the land, the breath of the wind, and the healing that lives within you.

🌵 Desert Plant Spotlight • What's Drying at the Nook?September is an interesting month in the apothecary.Some plants are...
09/10/2026

🌵 Desert Plant Spotlight • What's Drying at the Nook?

September is an interesting month in the apothecary.

Some plants are still growing.
Some are flowering.
Some are beginning to seed.
And some have already made their way inside, where the work becomes a little quieter.

Drying.

🌿

Drying herbs sounds simple - and in many ways, it is.

But I've learned that there's a difference between a plant becoming dry and drying a plant well.

After gathering, I sort through everything.

Damaged pieces come out.

Insects get a chance to make their exit. 😄

Depending on the plant, stems may be bundled and hung or leaves and flowers spread loosely where air can move around them.

Then comes the part that requires very little skill and quite a lot of patience:

Leave Them Alone.

No rushing them into jars because they look dry.
No sealing away even a little lingering moisture.
I want the plant material thoroughly dry before it goes into storage.

And I try to protect it from excessive heat, moisture and strong direct sunlight while it dries.

There is something beautiful about this stage of medicine-making.

The Garden is becoming the Apothecary.

Not through some dramatic transformation -

but through Air.
Time.
Attention.
And waiting.

🌾

Eventually I'll strip leaves from stems.
Separate flowers.
Fill jars.
Write labels.
Make teas, infused oils and other preparations.

But not yet.

Today, some of the plants at the Nook are simply hanging upside down or resting on drying screens.

Doing what plants have done in people's homes for generations.

And I'm trying not to fuss with them.

Which, admittedly, may be the hardest part. 😄

The apothecary begins long before anything reaches a jar.

🌵 Desert Plant Spotlight • Early September

🌬 WindWork Wednesday • 9/9 at 9:09Today is September 9. (9/9)And at 9:09 this morning, I am giving myself nine minutes.N...
09/09/2026

🌬 WindWork Wednesday • 9/9 at 9:09

Today is September 9. (9/9)
And at 9:09 this morning, I am giving myself nine minutes.

Not because I believe the clock holds some magical answer for me.
But because sometimes a pattern is enough to make us stop and pay attention.

🌬️ Last Wednesday, I welcomed the wind walking with me through September:

Mari - Gift
Accept Your Rewards

I've been sitting with that word ever since: Receive

It's interesting how much easier it can be to ask:

What should I do next?
What needs fixing?
What am I supposed to learn?

Than simply to notice: What is already Here? 🌿

So at 9:09, I'm stepping outside.
For nine minutes ... no pulling another card.
No asking for another teaching.
No trying to interpret every movement of the air.

Just standing somewhere beneath the New Mexico sky and listening.

To the wind against my skin.
To my breath.
To the land.
To whatever becomes noticeable when I stop trying so hard to hear something profound.

Because perhaps receiving begins there.

Not with acquiring more.

🌬️ But with becoming quiet enough to recognize what has already arrived.

Step outside for nine minutes...

You don't need a Wind Whistle.
You don't need cards.
You don't need to know the names of the winds.

Just NOTICE...

What direction is the air coming from?
Where do you feel it in your body?
What is moving around you?
And then, perhaps, one contemplation:

✨What is already Here that I haven't fully received?

No need to force an answer.

Nine minutes...

One little patch of Earth.
One breathing body.
And the wind.

That's enough.

🌬️ WindWork Wednesday • 9/9 at 9:09

🌾 From the Field Journal • Not Everything Is Ready at OnceOne of the things the garden keeps teaching me is that a seaso...
09/08/2026

🌾 From the Field Journal • Not Everything Is Ready at Once

One of the things the garden keeps teaching me is that a season doesn't arrive everywhere at the same time.

Even in the same little patch of land, one plant may already be drying and setting seed while another is flowering.

There are tomatoes still ripening.
Chiles still growing.
Herbs that can be gathered now.
Others I'm watching and waiting on.
And plants I will leave completely alone.

September may have arrived on the calendar, but here in New Mexico, summer hasn't simply packed its bags and left.

The afternoons are still warm.
The garden is still producing.
Pollinators are still visiting flowers.
Seeds are forming while new blooms continue to open.
Everything seems to be happening at once.

🌿

I think that's one of the reasons I love tending an apothecary garden.

The plants don't care very much about the neat little boxes we put around seasons.

They ask us to pay attention to what is actually happening.

Is this ready?
Does this need another week?
Has this flower been visited enough?
Should I gather these seeds - or leave them for the birds?
Is there enough here for me to take some and still leave plenty behind?

Sometimes tending means harvesting.
Sometimes it means watering.
Sometimes pruning.
Sometimes gathering seed.
And sometimes the work is simply:
Don't touch it yet.

That may be one of the harder lessons. 😄

Especially when you're excited about making medicine, saving seeds, filling jars and preparing for the season ahead.

But relationship with the land isn't only about knowing what we can gather.

It's also learning when not to...

🌾

So these early September days at the Nook are a mixture of harvesting and waiting...
Gathering and leaving...
Making and observing...

There are things coming into the apothecary now.

And there are things still out there beneath the New Mexico sun saying,

Not yet.

I'm learning to listen to both.

🌿 From the Field Journal • September

With Renee Baribeau – Super Excited, I just made it onto their weekly engagement list! 🎉❤️ Grateful for the conversation...
09/08/2026

With Renee Baribeau – Super Excited, I just made it onto their weekly engagement list! 🎉
❤️ Grateful for the conversations, teachings, laughter, and Winds that have kept us connected through the years. 🌬️

🌾 Days at the Apothecary • Not Everything Is Ready at OnceOne of the things the garden keeps teaching me is that a seaso...
09/06/2026

🌾 Days at the Apothecary • Not Everything Is Ready at Once

One of the things the garden keeps teaching me is that a season doesn't arrive everywhere at the same time.

Even in the same little patch of land, one plant may already be drying and setting seed while another is flowering.

There are tomatoes still ripening.
Chiles still growing.
Herbs that can be gathered now.
Others I'm watching and waiting on.
And plants I will leave completely alone.

September may have arrived on the calendar, but here in New Mexico, summer hasn't simply packed its bags and left.

The afternoons are still warm.
The garden is still producing
Pollinators are still visiting flowers.
Seeds are forming while new blooms continue to open.
Everything seems to be happening at once.

🌿

I think that's one of the reasons I love tending an apothecary garden.

The plants don't care very much about the neat little boxes we put around seasons.

They ask us to pay attention to what is actually happening.

Is this ready?
Does this need another week?
Has this flower been visited enough?
Should I gather these seeds - or leave them for the birds?
Is there enough here for me to take some and still leave plenty behind?

Sometimes tending means harvesting.
Sometimes it means watering.
Sometimes pruning.
Sometimes gathering seed.
And sometimes the work is simply:

Don't touch it yet.

That may be one of the harder lessons. 😄

Especially when you're excited about making medicine, saving seeds, filling jars and preparing for the season ahead.

But relationship with the land isn't only about knowing what we can gather.

It's also learning when not to.

🌾

So these early September days at the Nook are a mixture of harvesting and waiting.

Gathering and leaving.
Making and observing.

There are things coming into the apothecary now.

And there are things still out there beneath the New Mexico sun saying,

Not yet.

I'm learning to listen to both.

🌿 Days at the Apothecary

🍯 Days at the Apothecary • A Little SweetnessThere are medicines we reach for because something hurts.Plants we turn to ...
09/03/2026

🍯 Days at the Apothecary • A Little Sweetness

There are medicines we reach for because something hurts.
Plants we turn to when the body is asking for support.
Practices we return to when life feels uncertain.

And then there are the things we sometimes forget we are allowed to reach for simply because they bring pleasure.

This week, I've been thinking about receiving.

Yesterday, in my WindWork, I welcomed Mari:
Gift • Accept Your Rewards.

And that teaching has stayed with me.

Because receiving doesn't always have to mean waiting for some enormous blessing to arrive.

Sometimes receiving looks remarkably ordinary.

A cool morning.
Something finally ripening in the garden.
Someone making time for you.
A meal eaten slowly.
A cup of tea while it is still warm.
A spoonful of honey.

🍯🌹

At the apothecary, one of my favorite little expressions of sweetness is Necuhtli - Rose & Cinnamon Whipped Honey.

Honey whipped until it becomes soft and creamy, with rose and cinnamon folded into it.

Floral.
Warm.
Gently spiced.

And especially lovely stirred into tea, spread over warm toast, spooned onto fruit - or, admittedly, eaten directly from the spoon.

There doesn't always need to be a more complicated reason.

And perhaps that's part of what I'm learning as September begins.

Not everything nourishing has to come through struggle.
Not every beautiful thing needs to be justified.
Not every reward needs to arrive after exhaustion.

Sometimes sweetness is allowed to simply be sweet.

🌹🍯

I only have a few jars of Necuhtli on the apothecary shelf right now, made in a small batch here in New Mexico.
https://our-littlenook.myshopify.com/products/necuhtli-rose-cinnamon-whipped-honey

But today, more than asking you to buy honey, I'm curious about something else:

What is one small sweetness life is offering you right now - and are you letting yourself receive it?

— 🌿 Days at the Apothecary • A Little Sweetness

🌬 WindWork® Wednesday • Releasing One Wind, Welcoming AnotherAt the beginning of each month, I like to return to the win...
09/02/2026

🌬 WindWork® Wednesday • Releasing One Wind, Welcoming Another

At the beginning of each month, I like to return to the winds.

Not because the calendar suddenly erases everything that came before.

But because a new month gives me a moment to notice:

What has completed?
What am I carrying forward?
And what wind is asking to walk with me now?

Today I took a Wind Walk.

I let myself move slowly enough to notice the air, the land, my breath, and the small things I might otherwise pass by.

When I felt ready, I opened sacred space.

Facing East, I called to Eurus.
Then South, to Notus.
West, to Zephyrus.
North, to Boreas.

Three breaths of the Wind Whistle for each direction.

Not to command the winds.

To acknowledge them.

To orient myself.

To remember that I am standing somewhere inside a larger living world.

🌬️

Inside that sacred space, I thanked the wind that walked with me through August:

Laʻamaomao - Ancestor.
Build a Strong Foundation.

August carried so much around foundation for me.

Family.
Belonging.
Movement.
What holds.
What changes.
What we carry from those who came before us.
And now, with gratitude, I release that wind.

Not because her teaching is finished forever.
But because I am making room to listen for what comes next.

For September, I welcome:

Mari - Gift.
Accept Your Rewards.

And already, that feels like a very different question.

Not: What more do I need to prove?

Not: What else should I carry?

But: What am I willing to receive?

Renee Baribeau writes of Mari as a wind connected with the South - with needs, desires, emotions, nourishment, and the gifts that sometimes arrive after difficulty. She also asks us to notice where we may be abandoning our own knowing in order to follow what others expect.

That feels like an important September practice for me.

✨To notice what is arriving.
✨To receive without immediately questioning whether I have earned it.
✨To stay close to my own knowing.
✨And to remember that accepting a gift can require just as much openness as asking for one.

🌬️

When the work felt complete, I thanked the cardinal winds and released sacred space with three blows of the whistle in each direction.

And now I begin September with a new question:

What if the next part of the journey is not asking me to push harder - but to become more available to what is already trying to meet me?

🌬 WindWork® Wednesday

🌾 From the Field Journal • What We GatherLate summer has me looking at the land differently...A few months ago, I was wa...
09/01/2026

🌾 From the Field Journal • What We Gather

Late summer has me looking at the land differently...

A few months ago, I was watching for what was emerging.

New growth.
First flowers.
Tender leaves.
The beginning of fruit.

Now I find myself looking for something else.

What is ready to be gathered?

🌾

Working with plants has taught me that gathering isn't simply taking what is available.

It is paying attention.
Is the plant ready?
Is there enough?
What needs to remain for seed?
What belongs to the birds, insects and other lives sharing this land?
What can be gathered now - and what needs more time?

Sometimes the answer is simply: Leave it.

And I think there is something worth carrying from that practice into our own lives.

As August comes to an end, I have been thinking about what these past few months have given me.

What I want to keep.
What I want to preserve.
What has taught me something.
What I have enough of to share.
And what needs to be left where it is.

Maybe that is part of harvest, too.

Not gathering everything we can -
but learning to recognize what is ours to carry forward.

🌾🌬️

Tomorrow September begins.

The land here in New Mexico isn't suddenly going to become autumn because the calendar changes. There will still be heat. Still flowers. Still growing.

But something is shifting.

And for the next little while, I want to pay attention to the Gathering...

The plants.
The seeds.
The food.
The medicine.
The lessons.
The people around the table.
And all the small things we choose to carry with us into another season.

So as August closes, I'm curious:

What are you gathering from this season?

Not necessarily something you can hold in your hands.

What are you carrying forward?

— 🌾 From the Field Journal • The Gathering

🕯️ Sunday at the Nook • Tending What Is SacredBefore I begin another week,I tend the altar.I clear what has finished.Ref...
08/30/2026

🕯️ Sunday at the Nook • Tending What Is Sacred

Before I begin another week,

I tend the altar.
I clear what has finished.
Refresh the water.
Straighten what has shifted.
Light a candle.
Make an offering.
And sit for a little while with what remains.

There is something about this small practice that brings me back to myself.

Not because everything suddenly becomes clear.
Not because I have all the answers.
But because tending an altar asks me to pay attention.

To what I am carrying.
To what I am grateful for.
To what has been supporting me quietly.
To what I am ready to lay down.
And to what deserves to be carried forward.

🌾

This feels especially meaningful at the end of August.

Outside, the land is making seed.

Some things are still blooming.
Some are ripening.
Some are drying and returning.

Yesterday I wrote about learning that not everything is ours to gather.

I think the same is true in our own lives.

Not everything needs to come with us.
Some things can be thanked and released.
Some things need tending.
Some things are becoming the seeds of whatever comes next.
So today's offering is simple.

Gratitude for what has carried me.
Respect for what is ending.
And a little space for what I cannot see yet.

🕯️🌾

Before another week begins, perhaps there is a question worth sitting with:

What do I want to carry forward - and what am I ready to leave at the altar?

— Sunday at the Nook 🌿

Address

PO Box 1602
Moriarty, NM
87035

Opening Hours

Monday 9am - 1pm
Thursday 8am - 6pm
Friday 8am - 6pm
Saturday 8am - 6pm

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