I grew up in a small town in Ontario, where some of my fondest memories come from time spent on my grandparents’ dairy cow farm. I remember the sounds of the barn early in the morning — the gentle clatter of chains around the cows’ necks, the hum of the milkers, the soft shifting of animals in their stalls. There was something comforting in the rhythm of it all. Those early years gave me a deep love for nature, animals, and the quiet routines of farm life, even if I didn’t fully understand it at the time.

As I got older, I found myself more anxious — especially about school, what I’d do with my life, and where I was supposed to fit. I ended up studying software engineering and worked full time in tech for five years. It was a fast-paced world, and most of my days were spent in front of a screen. While I was grateful for the skills and opportunities, I often felt disconnected from nature, from my body, and from a slower, more grounded way of living.

After being laid off, I started freelancing as a wedding photographer and florist — two creative roles that allowed me to work with my hands and reconnect with beauty. I specialized in artificial wedding florals, designing long-lasting pieces for couples who wanted to hold on to their bouquets, literally and symbolically. It was during this time that I began to fall in love with the idea of flowers that didn’t fade — flowers that could be both sustainable and enduring.

A few summers before we settled into homestead life, I volunteered at an organic market farm where everything was done by hand. We planted, weeded, watered, and moved compost one wheelbarrow at a time. It was honest, physical work — the kind that makes you sore but satisfied. I learned what it meant to work hard: pulling weeds in the rain with bugs biting at your ankles, shoveling steaming compost in the heat of the sun, and harvesting bunches of kale in the cool, misty mornings of spring while the dew clung to your sleeves. It was humbling and beautiful, and it deepened my appreciation for the land, for food, and for the quiet bonds built between people who share that kind of labour.

Once we had our son and settled down on the homestead, I started to slow down. I began noticing the rhythms of the natural world again — like how maple trees flower before their leaf buds open in spring. I wanted to live a life more connected to the land, and to share that with my children.

Now I grow and dry flowers on our small-scale farm, using sustainable, low-intervention methods that respect the land and its seasons. Every stem is grown with care, harvested by hand, and naturally dried without chemicals. I believe in honoring what each season gives, and preserving beauty in a way that feels gentle and grounded.

Today, I live a humble life as a homemaker, flower grower, and mother. I’ve stepped away from the hustle and bustle of career life, and I’m deeply grateful that my husband is able to support us. I want to give my children the same feeling of being wild and free on our farm that I had growing up on my grandparents' farm.

I also want to help others see into how I feel about nature. My mission is to help people find calm and meaning, to appreciate the little world just beneath our feet, and maybe step away from their phones for just a few minutes a day. Through dried flowers, I hope to offer a quiet kind of beauty — one that lasts, one that reminds us to slow down.