If you found this place, I think you were supposed to.

If you found this place, I think you were supposed to.

That is not a marketing line. I don't say it to make you feel special in the hollow way the internet sometimes tries to make you feel special. I say it because of the specific kind of person who tends to find her way here — and because I have learned, in the last few years, to trust that the right things arrive at the right time.

This is Poppy & Evergreen. It is named for my two children —the reason I do all of it and the reason I finally stopped waiting for a better time to begin.

This is a space for the real life.

Not the curated one. Not the highlight reel. Not the version of yourself you would put on a resume or describe to someone on a first date when you want to make a good impression. The real one — the one that has hard seasons and complicated feelings and cancer diagnoses and legal proceedings and midnight ideas and bad dates and good ones and grief that arrives without warning and creativity that goes quiet for years and then suddenly will not shut up.

I am a mother and a woman in her late thirties who has been through some things. I have a cancer diagnosis that I take a chemo pill for every morning. I am going through a divorce. I am building several businesses during all of this, because apparently that is how I am wired. I went on my first date in eighteen years and documented the whole thing. I held the hands of three grandparents as they left. I left. I stayed. I built. I fell apart. I kept going.

I write about all of it here.

What this space holds: essays about reinvention and what it actually looks like when you are in the middle of it. About creativity and what happens when it comes back after a long absence. About dating after a long marriage. About grief. About theater and what it does for you that nothing else quite can. About travel and why it matters more than almost anything I know. About the specific experience of being a person with a serious illness who is also, somehow, fully alive and building something.

And journals. I make journals — because I kept looking for things that didn't exist and eventually decided to make them myself. They are in the shop if you want them.

The tagline of this brand is for the seasons of becoming. I mean that. All of them — the hard ones, the in-between ones, the ones where something is ending and you don't yet know what comes next. This place is for all of those seasons.

If you are in one of them right now — welcome. You are not alone in it.

Start wherever you are. 🌿