Something before, before, before.

First appearing in HER Collection, Fall 2026!

There’s something beneath. 

Something before, before, before. 

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Image by Jenna Nord Photography in New York City

Corporate Cocktail to Automate a Powerful Woman

Equal parts extended meetings and meeting expectations

1 part people pleasing

1 part always on

1 part immediate response

½ part mandatory in-office

Ensure she’s touched out with frayed edges. Surround with hot pavement and simmer on back-to-back calls.

Top with guilt (of all varieties)

Fiscal years and corporate jargon to taste

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This Summer as a corporate executive caged in a state of automated fiscal years, I was asked to close Q2, complete our financial 6+6 analysis, and ensure the pace of meeting our 2026 goals. 

It’s easy to watch the numbers. It’s so tragically hard to tend to the present moment in Corporate America.

Touching the data means you never have to deal with the messy humans the data reflects. It all had me wanting things to come together quickly which required me to be the automation. 

I usually scoff at overly complex layers or things that require patience - I’m afraid any residual patience faded with the rising heat of summer 2026. 

And as my patience waned for my corporate life, a life with a clear ladder of progression I’d hungrily climbed, a few moments in my garden this August brought back memories of the first two women at the helm I ever witnessed. 

Their legacy of leadership gripped me like a ghostly fog rising from red Georgia clay. 

There’s something beneath. 

Something before, before, before. 

I actually do not remember all that much of them, but the way they both led is something I’ve realized needs to be called forward and preserved. 

I remember cold countertops in both their homes. The crisp echo that held in the Appalachian mountain air. Footsteps on gravel. Herbs hanging, spiraling, and suspended in a dance I did not understand.

Leadership for one grandmother came without books or curated courses, she was the eldest daughter that dropped out of school at 8th grade to ensure her younger sisters were supported. Leadership was demanded and woven into her every step. It was her own legacy born from the mouth of the Klamath to the Mulberry Rivers.

Leading the seamstresses on the factory floor. She’d barely look up from her own work to discuss scheduling, needs, or concerns. And she’d command the room back to attention if it got too chatty or the buzz of any machine fell out of rhythm.

Briers held discipline. Birdsong held mischief. Sorghum held abundance.

There’s something beneath. 

Something before, before, before. 

For my other grandmother, leadership was quietly cultivated alongside a hearty meal topped off with something sweet. Mending in her classroom was served with a side of listening ear, homecooked food, and a story woven from Rabbittown. 

Only a small cafe in a stripmall still carries the name of the long-forgotten town alongside a statue of a rabbit. Growing up, we would walk down to where her fence used to stand and I’d squint with the blazing Georgia sun as I tried to imagine thousands of rabbits hopping along the landscape.

Brambles held discipline. Rabbits held mischief. Rosemary held protection.

There’s something beneath. 

Something before, before, before. 

This summer, I began to remember their hands quite clearly.

Calibrated season over season - a full palm pulsed to ⅛ cup, firmer still was a tablespoon, and clenched like they threaded their sewing machines was a teaspoon. They were both weathered, scarred, charred from cigarettes, and held the most tender touch to ingredients that mattered.

One would have me identify uses and contraindications of wild herbs. Always quick to caution on over-picking the spoils of geranium, she taught me boundaries of gratitude and land presence.

The other taught me that ingredients were raw and prepared within the limits of the season. Financial obligations and illiteracy didn’t allow for operating outside of what was grown, traded, or purchased through Piggly Wiggly.

They both embodied how to be the True North for those trusted in their care. We absolutely knew how to lead before. 

There’s something beneath. 

Something before, before, before. 

With the fading light of the final throws of 2026, at the end of two decades wielding the high-pressure intensity of a mechanical hummingbird - I drift. I sink. I melt. I remember them. 

Their wisdom offers a remedy - an elixir for a woman who has become automated and longs to drench herself in seasonal rhythm that’s balking at algorithms and asking us to unravel our automation. 

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Image by Jenna Nord Photography in New York City

Unravelling Elixir (Fading Light Edition)

Equal parts elongated shadows and shadow puppets

1 part wind chill

1 part calendula balm

1 part pouring rain

½ part evergreen shimmer

Ensure she’s well boundaried with cellular hydration. Surround with cold moss and steep on the forest floor.

Top with leaves (of all varieties)

Stone fruits and silent mornings to taste

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From cold commutes and fiscal years that no longer serve. Maybe we can drink this deep elixir and summon together what’s there before to lead and stay human. 

There’s something beneath. 

Something before, before, before.