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THE JOURNAL
Thoughts on sourdough, rhythmic living, and motherhood, shared from the kitchen, the garden, and the spaces in between.


Soft Hearts, Rough Edges: The Lesson from Morels
Like morels, we are shaped by where we’ve been. Maybe the goal isn’t to look flawless from a distance, but to be something rich and layered up close.

Autumn
Apr 30


I am Not a Victim of Motherhood
Motherhood is often described as something that happens to you. A whirlwind of sleepless nights, endless demands, and a complete reshaping of your life. And while that’s true in many ways, there’s another layer that doesn’t get talked about enough: Motherhood is not happening to you. It is happening for you. And whether you realize it or not, it is constantly reflecting something back. This reframe is everything! Before I go further, I want to acknowledge something important

Autumn
Apr 28


To Connect With the Earth Is to Connect With Yourself
Connection from soil to table. There’s a quiet thread that runs through so much of what I do. In the kitchen, in the garden, and behind the camera: To help people connect back to their food. Somewhere along the way, that connection has been lost. Food has become something we pick up, not something we understand. Something convenient, not something alive. And I’ve come to believe that if we want to reconnect with our food, we have to begin with the soil. The word human comes

Autumn
Mar 29


How to Revive Dehydrated Sourdough Starter
How to Revive and Maintain Dehydrated Sourdough Starter "Poppy" There’s something quietly reassuring about bringing a sourdough starter back to life. After months (or even years) tucked away in dried flakes, a dehydrated sourdough starter can be revived with just water, flour, and a little patience. Below, I’ll share exactly how to revive a dehydrated sourdough starter, along with simple tips for maintaining it once it’s active again. How to Revive Your Dehydrated Sourdough

Autumn
Mar 26


Lessons I Hope My Children Learn from the Garden
The garden has been one of my greatest teachers and I hope it will be theirs too. There’s something about the garden that slows everything down. The pace is different there. The expectations are different too. Seeds don’t rush. The weather doesn’t bend. And yet, year after year, something grows. As I look towards the next garden season with little hands nearby, I find myself thinking about what that space is teaching. These are the lessons I hope my children carry with them.

Autumn
Mar 26

Seasonal notes from Evolving Autumn
Let's stay connected! I share occasional musings on food, photography, motherhood, and living with the seasons.


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