About F + F

There are those among us safeguarding the love of words in their bloodstream. Ones who are born with a hunger for the turning of pages by lamplight. Gardeners of bibliophilia, all existing with the same ache: one which settled deep into their bones as children and only magnified as they aged, until their rib-cages blossomed into ivy vines and book spines.
They’re the defenders of mythology and fable. The ones humming poetry under their breath in the hushed halls of academia. The guardians of steampunk paperbacks and mother-dragons of libraries. 
Those are my favorite people.


pinkweedI’ve always been terrible with introductions. With every first day of school, came the dreaded: Tell us a little about yourself. I was the poor kid who rehearsed her “speech” as each passing desk pronounced their name and their favorite things, until it was my turn, and I (instead) blurted out word-vomit.

“Hi, I’m Brianna. My best friend is our dog. I like books and hammocks and catfish whiskers. And days when the sun is out but it still rains.”

When I was twelve, that particular speech was the equivalent of eternal embarrassment (albeit strangely poetic). I didn’t go to the mall for fun or take summer vacations to the beach. Weekend trips for me involved a john-boat, a bag of Doritos, and Dad’s steady voice explaining river currents. The weather intrigued me. I cried for two days when Sirius died. I was interested in things which weren’t cool.

Looking back, I can finally accept that word vomit for what it was: the truth. 

I was a curious child, growing up in a town of less than 1500, with a younger brother and wooded acres to explore. The company of animals was preferred. Mom, more often than not, had to tell me to ‘put the book away and go to sleep.’ There were hay bales to conquer, creeks to wade, walkie-talkie pigeon hunts with BB guns (trust me, we never even got close), and bugs to catch.

Turns out, I’ve managed to hold onto most of my curiosity as an adult. I still prefer the company of animals and stay up too late with books in my lap. I don’t harass pigeons anymore, unless it’s with a camera, and butterflies continue to fascinate me. My younger brother remains my favorite adventure buddy, though now there’s beer involved, not Hawaiian Punch.Sand (1)

Living in the river bottoms, the ever-changing mood of the Chariton is a sanctuary of sorts. It is there I can pen the correspondingly ever-changing words of my own heart, like burrs in my veins or velvet over skin, and needing release.

That’s what Faith + Fern is all about. The words, the ink, the pages, and the ache. The gardening, the blooming, the rain, the wind, and the whistle of a Northern pintail drake.

Faith + Fern is where I go from seeking silence, to finding my voice in the fog.


I’m so glad you’re here. Take with you what you like, both inside the words and out. On Faith + Fern, you’ll find:

  • book reviews (with my rating scale explained) ➡️ Brown Dog Book Reviews
  • my own short stories and flash fiction
  • poetry reactions – spanning both classic and contemporary periods
  • the occasional photography portfolio from my walks + talks in nature and on local sidewalks.

Truth be told, I’d love it even more to hear from you, whether that be if something touches you or infuriates you. Send any recommendations my way or simply let me know you were here.

Email me at: faithandfernblog@gmail.com

With love,



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