A one-day gathering · 14 November 2026
A day of plants, forest and coming back to yourself.
One Saturday. Ten women.
A place held by the wisdom of trees, with no rush and nowhere else to be.
We make medicine with our hands, walk slowly among them, and eat well at a long table.
Nothing to fix.
Nothing to become.
Just be.
Does any of this sound familiar?
You have a full life.
There’s always noise. Messages to answer, someone who needs something, a list in your head that never quite empties.
Somewhere in there, you stopped having time for yourself. Not the bath-and-candle kind of time — the real kind. Sitting still long enough to hear what you actually think about your own life.
Because you do know things. You have an instinct about your body, your children, your work. But it speaks quietly, and there’s never a free moment to listen — so you ask someone else instead.
And then there’s this: you keep saving posts about plants. Which leaf is for sleep, which one for the belly, how to make a balm with your own hands. You’d love to actually know. You’ve been meaning to learn, and it keeps sliding to the bottom of the list.
Here's what I believe
For thousands of years, taking care of yourself simply meant knowing what grew near your house. Our grandmothers — and theirs before them — knew which leaf was for the throat, which one for the belly, which one for sleep.
It wasn't alternative. It was life.
And somewhere along the line, we were told that was the strange thing. That real care comes in a plastic bottle. That the wisdom of the earth belongs to the past. That you need permission — from an expert, a doctor, a certificate — to tend to yourself.
You didn't lose your intuition. It was taken from you, slowly, and sold back to you in pieces.
This day is about taking it back.
What this is
This is a day to rebuild your relationship with the plants — and through them, with yourself. To make things with your own hands. To walk slowly through a forest. To sit in a circle of women who ask nothing of you.
To remember that your body has its own intelligence, and that it never actually stopped working.
The plants are the bridge. You are the destination.
Everything you will make that day, you will make yourself — from real plants, with your own hands.
The place
A place that feels like it belongs to another time.
A magical forest. A garden full of medicinal plants. A long table under the trees.
No traffic. No noise. No screens asking anything of you.
Just green in every direction, the smell of herbs on your hands, and the kind of quiet your nervous system has been waiting for.
Some of the medicine is in the plants. Some of it is simply in being in nature, with nothing to rush to.
The day
Slowly, and with nowhere else to be.
We begin with warmth in our hands.
Cacao, a circle of women, and the quiet agreement that we can arrive exactly as we are. Something in the chest unlocks — it always does.
The trees have been waiting a long time for us to walk slowly again.
We go in without hurry, without purpose, letting the green do what green has always done to a nervous system: soften it.
Cacao butter, oils, petals, your hands.
An old alchemy, and the small astonishment of watching something become medicine between your fingers.
Here you choose — not from a recipe, but from what your body is quietly asking for.
Leaf by leaf, you make something that exists for no one else.
And then we drink it. Slowly. In silence. Together.
The simplest practice there is, and the one the world made us forget: to be entirely present for one cup of tea.
A long table beneath the trees.
Real food, unhurried conversation, the particular joy of eating well in good company. This, too, is medicine.
The last thing we make, and the most personal.
An oil blended for what you want to carry forward: grounding, courage, softness, clarity. Something to come back to when the days get loud again.
We end where we started, in a circle — only different now.
We say what we're taking with us, and we walk home with full hands and a quiet mind.
You go home with
Before you talk yourself out of it
Really. Nothing.
Most of the women coming have never made anything like this before. Some have never even brewed a herbal tea from scratch. That's exactly the point — we start where you are.
You don't need to be “spiritual”. You don't need to be good with your hands. You don't need to arrive knowing anyone.
You just need to show up, and be willing to slow down for five hours.
Who you'll be with
I used to have an eleven-year corporate career — and a life that looked perfect on paper.
And one day my soul asked us to reinvent ourselves.
I left it all and moved to a mountain in Portugal. I built a garden from scratch, knowing nothing, through a great deal of trial and error. I studied herbalism and permaculture. I founded a forest school for my children, because the one I dreamed of didn’t exist. And in my forties I began my second degree: Psychology.
I’m an Engineer. A Holistic Life Coach. An Herbalist. And a mother of two.
But honestly, what defines me most is this:
I love nature, and I’m obsessed with restoring balance. And I believe with all my heart that women are the answer.
I help women come back to the old, powerful wisdom we carry within us — the wisdom we were taught to forget — using plants as the bridge.
And I don’t settle for the answers I’m handed. I go deeper.
I’m not an expert in anything. What I have is my own experience — and that’s what I’m here to share.
The details
Why only ten? Because I want to be able to sit with each of you. Because an oil is blended slowly. And because some conversations only happen in small rooms.
In case you're wondering
Especially for you. Most women coming are starting from zero.
Most people do. By lunchtime, nobody feels alone.
There's cacao, there's meditation, there's symbolism — and there's also chemistry, science and practical recipes. I hold both. You take what resonates and leave the rest.
Tell me when you book and we'll adapt everything for you. Nothing we make is strong or risky, but I'd rather know. The cacao is ceremonial-grade and gentle — and if you'd prefer tea instead, that's perfectly fine too.
Comfortable shoes for the forest, a jacket, and nothing else. Everything is provided.
Let me know at least a week before and I'll move your place to the next date.
To reserve your place
Send me a message with your name and I'll reply with everything — the address, the deposit details, and anything you'd like me to know beforehand.
Or simply send me a message on Instagram — @kari.petrovich
Places are held in the order the payments arrive.
If you've read this far, something in you already answered.
Maybe it was the forest. Maybe the thought of making something with your hands. Maybe just a whole day somewhere green and quiet, where nobody needs anything from you.
Whatever it was — it wasn't random.
That pull you feel towards this kind of life isn't a whim. It's memory. Your body remembers, and it's asking you to come back.
This is only one Saturday.
But it might remind you of something you already knew.
Nothing to fix.
Nothing to become.
Just be.