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Playing with a new kind of photo album. Remember w

Playing with a new kind of photo album. Remember when we used to print our photos?

Wildflower, DIY Edition. I went through the wringe

Wildflower, DIY Edition. I went through the wringer with this one—wrong glue that warped the covers, stitches that refused to behave, and a blade that suddenly decided straight lines were optional.⁠
⁠
But Wildflower is finally bound—with thread, needle, and a failure or two.⁠
⁠
This was the last piece of the project. The one that had to feel right in my hands. And it does. It turned out exactly how I’d envisioned it—something a little imperfect and raw, like the old zines I used to read.
⁠
Swipe through to see the mess and the finished book.

My word of the year for 2025 was courage. We all k

My word of the year for 2025 was courage. We all know the meaning, but I’ve kept returning to it lately: mental or moral strength to venture, persevere, and withstand danger, fear, or difficulty.I didn’t expect that word to apply to creativity—but here we are.One of my goals this year was to embrace all things analog, especially in my art. I was drawn to film photography, coloring, collaging, linocuts—anything that pulled me away from a screen. Maybe it was nostalgia. These were the mediums that shaped my younger self, the ones that sparked a lifelong love of making.There was a kind of joy I used to feel when I was a kid, lying on the floor for hours, coloring or sketching book covers for the stories I wrote. In school, I fell in love with photography and graphic arts—printing layouts by hand, getting lost in the darkroom. It didn’t matter if what I made was good. It was the process, the play.Somewhere along the way, I lost that. Or maybe I tucked it away. These days, I hesitate. I doubt. And worse, I sometimes wonder: What’s the point?I’ve been sitting with those thoughts for months. I don’t have a tidy answer, but the pull to create again—and the fear of it—has been growing. So yesterday, I took a baby step. I got out my craft toolbox. Turned on some music. Lined up scissors and glue sticks and a stack of old magazines.It was meant to be simple. Something with flowers. Something joyful.But the piece that came out wasn’t that. It was stranger than I expected. Not quite what I had planned. Then again, neither am I. And maybe that’s the point.To anyone else feeling stuck or uncertain about your creative work—you’re not alone.Sometimes it takes real courage just to start. To play again. To make something without knowing where it’s going or if it’ll be beautiful.But even the smallest act of creating—especially when it feels hard—is a way back to yourself.And sometimes, it’s a way forward too.Let it be strange. Let it be yours.

Last days of winter fires before the desert turns

Last days of winter fires before the desert turns up the heat. Let it burn!FYI this fire was smelling all juniper and smoky when we visited our old neighborhood landscape shop, The Green Goddess in Phoenix.

She’d walked this way to the market for months, bu

She’d walked this way to the market for months, but hadn’t noticed the wooden door nestled between adobe walls, the paint cracked like an old riverbed. Something hummed behind it, low and familiar, like a voice calling her name in a language she had forgotten.
She stopped, switched the bundle of sage to her other hand, and reached for the handle. The latch clicked and released on its own, swinging open to the dark courtyard.
A breath of cool air slipped past her as a voice from the shadows whispered, “You’re late.”
#doorsofinstagram

I’m usually a sucker for putting a cool door front

I’m usually a sucker for putting a cool door front and center, but this tree just stole the show. There’s just something magical about the light, textures, and colors of New Mexico.

Wildflower is out now! It’s a story of curses, los

Wildflower is out now! It’s a story of curses, lost paths, and a girl who doesn’t need saving—just a little time to figure out what she really is. If you love fairytales with a bite, this one’s for you.🔗 Grab your copy today. Link is in my bio.

Some books are meant to be devoured with coffee, a

Some books are meant to be devoured with coffee, and Wildflower is definitely one of them.” ☕It’s finally here! Wildflower is out in the world, and I couldn’t be more excited. This dark fairytale is laced with wolves, the Otherworld, and one girl caught between them all. Morning brew, a new book, and a story that lingers—what more do you need?Link is in my bio!

I’ve always been drawn to ravens. Maybe it’s their

I’ve always been drawn to ravens. Maybe it’s their place in myth and lore, always straddling the line between messengers, tricksters, and omens. Or maybe it’s because I’ve spent the last three years watching a real-life raven family set up shop in the saguaro in my backyard. Every spring, they return, rebuild, raise their young, and fight off the hawks who think they own the sky. It’s a brutal, fascinating thing to watch—like a feathery turf war playing out above my morning coffee.Maybe that’s why Allister found his way into my story Wildflower. He started as an observer, Ness’s eyes in the real world, meant to watch Rosa from a distance. Detached. Professional. A feathered spy with no stake in the game. But instincts don’t care about rules. And watching someone struggle, fight, and almost fall without stepping in? Turns out, that’s harder than it sounds.At some point, Allister stops being just a messenger. He becomes a companion. A partner. Not human, not wolf, but something else entirely—something constant. He’s there in the quiet moments, in the moments that matter. Like the ravens outside my window, circling, calling, guarding something bigger than just themselves. And, like them, he’s not about to let the hawks win.Allister isn’t just a bird in the background. He’s part of Rosa’s world now, tangled up in fate, feathers and all. And when the darkness circles too close, he’ll be there. Watching. Fighting. Maybe even staying.

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Playing with a new kind of photo album. Remember w

Playing with a new kind of photo album. Remember when we used to print our photos?

Wildflower, DIY Edition. I went through the wringe

Wildflower, DIY Edition. I went through the wringer with this one—wrong glue that warped the covers, stitches that refused to behave, and a blade that suddenly decided straight lines were optional.⁠
⁠
But Wildflower is finally bound—with thread, needle, and a failure or two.⁠
⁠
This was the last piece of the project. The one that had to feel right in my hands. And it does. It turned out exactly how I’d envisioned it—something a little imperfect and raw, like the old zines I used to read.
⁠
Swipe through to see the mess and the finished book.

My word of the year for 2025 was courage. We all k

My word of the year for 2025 was courage. We all know the meaning, but I’ve kept returning to it lately: mental or moral strength to venture, persevere, and withstand danger, fear, or difficulty.I didn’t expect that word to apply to creativity—but here we are.One of my goals this year was to embrace all things analog, especially in my art. I was drawn to film photography, coloring, collaging, linocuts—anything that pulled me away from a screen. Maybe it was nostalgia. These were the mediums that shaped my younger self, the ones that sparked a lifelong love of making.There was a kind of joy I used to feel when I was a kid, lying on the floor for hours, coloring or sketching book covers for the stories I wrote. In school, I fell in love with photography and graphic arts—printing layouts by hand, getting lost in the darkroom. It didn’t matter if what I made was good. It was the process, the play.Somewhere along the way, I lost that. Or maybe I tucked it away. These days, I hesitate. I doubt. And worse, I sometimes wonder: What’s the point?I’ve been sitting with those thoughts for months. I don’t have a tidy answer, but the pull to create again—and the fear of it—has been growing. So yesterday, I took a baby step. I got out my craft toolbox. Turned on some music. Lined up scissors and glue sticks and a stack of old magazines.It was meant to be simple. Something with flowers. Something joyful.But the piece that came out wasn’t that. It was stranger than I expected. Not quite what I had planned. Then again, neither am I. And maybe that’s the point.To anyone else feeling stuck or uncertain about your creative work—you’re not alone.Sometimes it takes real courage just to start. To play again. To make something without knowing where it’s going or if it’ll be beautiful.But even the smallest act of creating—especially when it feels hard—is a way back to yourself.And sometimes, it’s a way forward too.Let it be strange. Let it be yours.

Last days of winter fires before the desert turns

Last days of winter fires before the desert turns up the heat. Let it burn!FYI this fire was smelling all juniper and smoky when we visited our old neighborhood landscape shop, The Green Goddess in Phoenix.

She’d walked this way to the market for months, bu

She’d walked this way to the market for months, but hadn’t noticed the wooden door nestled between adobe walls, the paint cracked like an old riverbed. Something hummed behind it, low and familiar, like a voice calling her name in a language she had forgotten.
She stopped, switched the bundle of sage to her other hand, and reached for the handle. The latch clicked and released on its own, swinging open to the dark courtyard.
A breath of cool air slipped past her as a voice from the shadows whispered, “You’re late.”
#doorsofinstagram

I’m usually a sucker for putting a cool door front

I’m usually a sucker for putting a cool door front and center, but this tree just stole the show. There’s just something magical about the light, textures, and colors of New Mexico.

Wildflower is out now! It’s a story of curses, los

Wildflower is out now! It’s a story of curses, lost paths, and a girl who doesn’t need saving—just a little time to figure out what she really is. If you love fairytales with a bite, this one’s for you.🔗 Grab your copy today. Link is in my bio.

Some books are meant to be devoured with coffee, a

Some books are meant to be devoured with coffee, and Wildflower is definitely one of them.” ☕It’s finally here! Wildflower is out in the world, and I couldn’t be more excited. This dark fairytale is laced with wolves, the Otherworld, and one girl caught between them all. Morning brew, a new book, and a story that lingers—what more do you need?Link is in my bio!

I’ve always been drawn to ravens. Maybe it’s their

I’ve always been drawn to ravens. Maybe it’s their place in myth and lore, always straddling the line between messengers, tricksters, and omens. Or maybe it’s because I’ve spent the last three years watching a real-life raven family set up shop in the saguaro in my backyard. Every spring, they return, rebuild, raise their young, and fight off the hawks who think they own the sky. It’s a brutal, fascinating thing to watch—like a feathery turf war playing out above my morning coffee.Maybe that’s why Allister found his way into my story Wildflower. He started as an observer, Ness’s eyes in the real world, meant to watch Rosa from a distance. Detached. Professional. A feathered spy with no stake in the game. But instincts don’t care about rules. And watching someone struggle, fight, and almost fall without stepping in? Turns out, that’s harder than it sounds.At some point, Allister stops being just a messenger. He becomes a companion. A partner. Not human, not wolf, but something else entirely—something constant. He’s there in the quiet moments, in the moments that matter. Like the ravens outside my window, circling, calling, guarding something bigger than just themselves. And, like them, he’s not about to let the hawks win.Allister isn’t just a bird in the background. He’s part of Rosa’s world now, tangled up in fate, feathers and all. And when the darkness circles too close, he’ll be there. Watching. Fighting. Maybe even staying.

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