01/06/2026
Gratitude Post:
This morning, walking my son to the bus, the snow fell heavy and wet — the kind that seeps straight through a down jacket and settles into your bones.
On the walk home, I noticed something quietly remarkable: while my coat was giving up, my merino and silk scarf was not. Warm. Dry. Breathing with me. Doing exactly what natural fibers have done for thousands of years.
And I made this.
I spun the yarn with my own hands.
I wove the cloth.
I turned fiber into fabric, and fabric into something that shows up for me on ordinary winter mornings.
Slow fiber is not just about beauty — it’s about function, longevity, and relationship. Wool keeps you warm even when it’s wet. Silk adds strength, drape, and quiet luxury. Together, they create something resilient, adaptable, alive.
Five years ago, I never would have imagined I’d be making my own wearable outer layers, let alone creating handmade pieces that now travel to homes across BC, Alberta, and the US. It still feels surreal. It is deeply humbling.
This work is possible because I am supported — by my husband, my partner, my steady anchor, who makes space for my creative life so I can stay home and be at the beck and call of our son (market days excluded 🙃). And by our family, our son’s grandparents, who step in with love during those market days and crunch periods.
I feel endlessly grateful to be living in the forested, mountainous, lake-filled Kootenays — creating slowly, working with my hands, making pieces for my community and beyond, and staying rooted in the people I love.
Every scarf supports slow fashion, local making, and a small family rooted here in the Kootenays. If one speaks to you, I’d be honoured to make one specially for you.
And if you’re curious to explore more, there are many incredible artists in my community creating their own pieces of sustainable, handmade fashion. If you’d like to know who they are, reach out — I’m always happy to share their Instagram profiles.
