About

About eighteen months ago, my son and daughter-in-law handed me a jar of sourdough starter and changed the way I think about time.

The starter was over a hundred years old. I don't know its whole history, where it began, whose hands fed it before mine, but I think about that sometimes when I'm standing at my counter in the morning, feeding it before I've even finished my coffee. There's something quietly humbling about being the latest in a very long line of caretakers.

I live in the Pacific Northwest with my husband Tom. We've been married 36 years. I'm a crafter at heart. I sew, I bake, I make things with my hands, and I've always been drawn to the slow, repeated rituals that hold a day together. Morning coffee. Bread rising on the counter. Watching my three grandsons turn into young men. Paying attention to each season for exactly what it is.

Slow living, to me, isn't an aesthetic. It's a practice of gratitude for what's already here.

Slow Rise Letters grew out of that. I wanted to write to people the way I wish more people still wrote. On paper, by hand, with something real tucked inside. No inbox. No algorithm. Just a letter that arrives in your mailbox once a month, from my kitchen to yours.

If that sounds like something you've been missing, I'd love to write to you.