When I started my position as an assistant professor at Augustana Campus three and a half years ago, I was struck by a large sage field growing on the southeast corner of campus. It was beautiful—full of sunlight and good drainage, just the conditions that sage loves. But beyond its peaceful beauty, this patch of sage held deep cultural meaning. Prairie sage is a sacred medicine for the Indigenous peoples of this area—Maskwacis Nêhiyawak, Niitsitapi, Nakoda, Tsuut'ina, Métis and more— who have lived in relationship with this land since time immemorial. I myself am a citizen of the Métis Nation of Alberta, and have practiced smudging with sage since I was a child.
For many years now, that same sage field has been the source of medicine for smudging ceremonies held on campus—used by students, staff and faculty alike in moments of reflection, ceremony and healing. For me, the sage field represents more than just plant life—it offers connection, history and relationship.
In 2022, I received a Campus Sustainability Grant from the 伊人直播's office of Energy and Climate Action that would help raise awareness of traditional medicines that grow on campus through consultations with Elders, educational workshops and the creation of a plant walk with interpretive signage. My project was born from a desire to not only protect the sage field but to foster awareness and relational responsibility toward the native plants that grow all around us. At the heart of this project is wahkohtowin, a Cree concept of kinship that teaches us that all beings—human and more-than-human alike—are connected. Land, water, animals and plants aren’t resources, but relatives. And our responsibilities to them are cultural, spiritual and ethical.
Unlike Western approaches to sustainability, which often center quantifiable metrics and separation of humans from the natural world in the name of preservation, Indigenous worldviews remind us that sustainability is fundamentally relational. It's about honouring spirit, language, protocol and place. When we protect a field of sage, we aren’t just protecting biodiversity—we’re protecting a network of cultural teachings, relationships and responsibilities.
Over the past three years, the project has been a community-engaged, land-based learning initiative. I’ve had the honour of consulting with seven Indigenous knowledge holders, Elders and language speakers from several Nations. Together, we’ve hosted over ten plant medicine walks and harvesting gatherings for students, staff and members of the Camrose community. One of the most memorable moments was watching Cree-Métis educator Ashley Tiller lead a workshop for 25 first-year Augustana students, guiding them in respectful, protocol-based engagement with medicines in September 2022.
Augustana students harvesting sage after learning about Indigenous medicines from Cree-Métis educator Ashley Tiller (Photo: John Ulan)
Akey outcome of the project was the installation of seven interpretive signs across campus in January 2025. These signs, created with guidance from knowledge holders, share introductory teachings about native plants and include their names in nêhiyawêwin (the Cree language), Siksikáí’powahsin (the Blackfoot language) and Southern Michif (the Métis language). Visitors are invited to walk through these natural areas—ending at the sage field—and reflect on their own relationships with plant relatives.
The signs are interactive, asking people to slow down and engage: to smell the leaves, notice the insects, listen to the birds. Each teaching offers a respectful introduction to a plant relative that grows on Augustana Campus. Importantly, the signs also advise visitors not to harvest without proper guidance, reminding us that knowledge comes with responsibility. As one Elder told me, “You wouldn’t just walk behind the counter at a pharmacy and take what you wanted.” The same respect and ethics of consent must be extended to medicine, people, to the land and to the protocols that govern harvesting.
Unfortunately, I have to end this reflection with a sombre update. In May 2025, the sage field was mistakenly mowed down. It was a heartbreaking accident. I had hoped to harvest there with my research assistant and Indigenous community group this summer. The sage may come back, but it will face the challenge of outgrowing an invasive thistle in the area.
Still, we carry on. Sage grows in other places on campus and along Stoney Creek which runs through the nearby Jubilee Park. This project has made it clear that while awareness is growing, there’s still work to be done in engaging Indigenous people and knowledge in institutional sustainability practices. Protecting natural areas on campus can’t be the responsibility of one grant, or one person. It needs institutional support, long-term planning, and deeper consultation with Indigenous Peoples. If we want to take sustainability seriously at the 伊人直播, we must root that commitment in relationships—both with the land and with the people who have stewarded it since long before this institution existed.
If you’re interested in learning more about native plants and Indigenous medicines, I warmly invite you to visit Augustana Campus and take part in the self-guided plant walk. A map for this accessible, all-ages walk is available on Augustana’s Tours & Events page—come walk with me.
