Welcome to Garden Notes
For years, I chased the idea of “having it all together—” the perfect routine, the dream career, the endless momentum. I thought the answer was working harder, moving faster, and ticking off boxes on the “dream life” checklist.
Then burnout stopped me in my tracks and taught me otherwise.
Garden Notes is my quiet corner for figuring out how to come home to myself—and live the life I always wanted, even in the messy in-between.
Here, I share slow mornings, travel stories, honest reflections, and gentle reminders that life doesn’t have to be loud to be meaningful. It’s for ambitious introverts, cozy rebels, and anyone craving something softer, truer, and real.
If you’ve ever thought, “Wait, I feel that too,” I hope this space feels like home.
Pull up a chair. The kettle’s on.
What if the in-between wasn’t something to rush through — but the beginning of a softer, truer way of living?
Stop Waiting for Your Dream Life (Part 1: The Recognition)
I used to think my dream life would begin when I “made it.” But sitting here in Rockport with coffee in hand, seagulls overhead and salt air filling my lungs, I realized: this is it. The dream life isn’t pinned to a board—it’s rooted in presence, contentment, and creativity.
Garden Notes: The August Harvest
August has been a practice in slowing down — shaping my days around rituals, cozy recipes, and small joys. This month’s Harvest gathers the grounding habits, tiny luxuries, and moments of presence that carried me through late summer. Think of it as a little care package from my garden to yours.
Why I Started My Creative Sabbatical: The Story Behind My First YouTube Video
On April 2, I was laid off from my six-figure job, and everything changed. Instead of rushing into the next chapter, I chose to slow down, start over, and document the journey.
In Praise of Boring Days: Why Slowness is Sacred
What if boring wasn’t a sign you’re doing life wrong — but proof you’re finally coming home to yourself? A personal essay on romanticizing the mundane, reclaiming rest, and honoring the quieter seasons of becoming.