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Home isn’t always one place. For those of us who live far from where we come from, it becomes something we carry — in memories, people, and moments. This piece explores what it means to belong to two places at once, and how love can live across oceans.

Fall comes quickly in the Yukon — the colors shift, the air turns crisp, and the light softens. In this post, I reflect on how the season reminds us to slow down, embrace change, and find beauty in letting go.

Sometimes the life we planned quietly unravels — and what’s left is a version of ourselves we barely recognize. This is a story about what it means to begin again when everything falls apart… and how coming home to yourself can be the most beautiful kind of love.

Beneath the smiles and successes, we all carry untold stories — heartbreaks, quiet dreams, and truths we rarely share. This piece reflects on the power of being cracked open, of letting others see our humanity, and the connection that blossoms when we do.

Life’s deepest truths often live in the quiet: a pause at the window, a child’s laughter, a breath that softens the body. In this reflection, I share what it means to find peace in everyday life and to let the smallest moments guide us home.

A reflection on the quiet kind of friendship — the ones that don’t demand attention but offer deep belonging, simple love, and space to be fully yourself.

We just returned from a gentle weekend in Teslin. Kato laughed with cousins, Icki roamed free, and I found the kind of space that lets you fully exhale.

We didn’t reach the top — and that turned out to be the best part. A story about forest puddles, sandwiches in the rain, and the quiet joy of being right here.

Maybe joy isn’t something we arrive at — maybe it’s something we notice. In a soft afternoon light. In a laugh we didn’t expect. In a quiet moment that asks nothing of us but to be there for it. This post is a gentle reminder: what if this is already the good part?

We carry so much without even noticing — old fears, outdated roles, stories we no longer believe in.
This post is a soft reminder to pause, check in, and ask: Does this still belong to me?
A quiet reflection on healing, identity, and the quiet power of letting go.

Summer in the Yukon is here, and with it, the joy of making, sharing, and being present in the warmth of it all.

Not everything has to be a breakthrough. Sometimes, it’s just noticing the light again. Here's a quiet list of what’s been inspiring me lately.