About the Baker

 I have always felt like I existed out of time. 

I don't long for the newest releases in technology, I never wanted to be a "boss babe", and I never, not even once felt like I wanted to grow up and spread my wings in the city.  I tried to keep up for a good long while, but I was always out of step.  It was like a sweater that never quite fit.

I used to dream about little cottages perched on hillsides where I would walk to the local market to shop.  Long before "shop local" became a movement, I would wish for the days before big box stores existed, and when the fluorescent light in my kitchen finally burned out, I not so secretly rejoiced and never replaced it.  I haven't owned a microwave in years.

So when I say I embrace the slow living movement, it's not something I do because it's trendy.  I didn't become this way during the pandemic, though it did give me permission to finally sink into it.  And like so many people, that's when my baking really took off. 

I baked for friends who were feeling crushed by the weight of the world.  I baked to feed my kids.  I baked to give them adventures when we couldn't take them anywhere.  I had a newborn then, and baked with her strapped to my body in the sling.  And as our life slowly transitioned into something that began to look like my dreams, something clicked into place.

We became a homeschool family.  I incorporated baking into our lessons.  We sought out places that worked for our family, like the library, art education and community theatre.  I found the courage to be outspoken about the things that matter to me most, as a human, as a parent to multiple tiny humans, and as a member of a thriving community.

And so I spend my days in between the school room and the kitchen.  Sometimes I knit in the car.  I listen to audiobooks when I sew.  I still keep a hard copy calendar.  I prefer physical books to e-readers.  I'm happiest in the rain.  I'd rather take a long walk in the woods than go to the beach.  I love experimenting in the garden, have visions of quilts hanging on a clothesline, aspire to begin hand dipping my own candles, and I adore reading books to my children. 

I once spent two weeks on my own solo traveling through Scotland and it was the trip of dreams; adventuring through ancient forests, sleeping in old rooms with the rain battering on the windows, and eating simple, fresh food at weathered wooden tables.  The way I felt there is the way I hope to make other people feel.  Like they are surrounded by something bigger than themselves.  Like they are participating in a longstanding tradition of engaging with their community to fulfill a vital human need.

Sustenance.  Connection.  Partnership.

And so, thank you for being here.  For partnering with me.  For letting my dreams take root in a way that being perpetually out of step, I never thought possible.

From our kitchen to yours.

Welcome.