It all started with love and ancestors
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​I recall the times I idealized my perfect existence, dwelling on a farm with my partner and child, partaking in craft markets, savoring loose-leaf tea, and relishing family feasts. I envisioned the wind caressing my face, splinters in my hands, soil on my boots, and the scent of cow manure—a preference not shared by all, but distinctly mine nonetheless.

I met Craig in 2020 amidst the COVID pandemic, and it was evident that we were two artists destined to come together. We began building and gardening together. In 2022, we expanded our home with animals and welcomed a son. While I was on maternity leave, we looked into making some extra money for Christmas.
Initially, we considered selling a few charcuterie boards, but our community's enthusiastic response quickly propelled us into business. Within the following two months, we had crafted over 300 charcuterie boards. It was at that moment we realized, perhaps we were onto something special.

When the ancestors say go, you go!

As an Indigenous woman affected by colonialism and Western worldviews, I strive to reclaim aspects of my identity, such as my language. I spent much time with my grandmother during my childhood. She spoke very little English; her first language was nłeʔkepmxcin, which is also my traditional language. She would speak to me in nłeʔkepmxcin, and I would reply in English, as if there was an unspoken reason not to speak it. She adored sunflowers.

I recall watching her in the garden, the sunflowers towering behind her as she worked the soil with her hand plow, the warmth on my face, and the weight of my long hair against my back.

In dedicating this business to her, I sought recordings from our elders, searching for things my grandmother cherished. When I played one, a familiar voice brought tears to my eyes; it sounded just like her. I marveled at the dialect, now lost to time, unique to our elders. Discovering who said the word for wild sunflower/arrow leaf balsamroot, sóx̣ʷm̓, I found it was my grandmother. Overwhelmed, I cried, hand over heart, feeling her guidance, her watchful presence, and her signs along the path..
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Thank you, ancestors, thank you Grandma Minnie.