I share stories of people, place, and the intricately woven fabrics they create. The smallest detail can take us in unexpected directions, if we listen closely and have a healthy curiosity. Independent of a day job in communications, I contribute to Culinaire Magazine as their Okanagan correspondent. My focus is on writing with a specialization in connecting communications to business strategies. I freelance some, dabble in long form essays, and have a larger non-fiction project in the works.
My childhood was spent in rural Ontario, camping in the summer with friends-like-family while listening to my dad play bluegrass on his 1950s Gibson. From my mother I learned about the tart taste of sumac cones, how to make paper from tree bark, and that there’s magic to be had in the forest come autumn; through my dad I know how to change a tire, the oil, and how to ‘feel’ a certain speed when the gauge stops working.
At no point did I ever think I’d get married. My fella and I got lost on Lexington Avenue in New York and found a tiny shop owned by two aging and arguing sisters who had more vintage purses than wall space. On our special day we forgot to bring cash for the justice of the peace. Our ceremony was on a beach in Vancouver and a stranger walked her dog through our wee circle more than once. The entire production lasted seven minutes.
Home is in the Okanagan, British Columbia. Our house was built in 1947 and we’ve been renovating it since 2007; I still dream of insulation and drywall. Life revolves around our cat Tippy, whatever strays we end up feeding, and a collection of vintage cars in a garage we built that turns out to be far too small.