This winter has been quite different than any of the others, this holiday season especially. Early this summer, we packed everything (5 animals included), and drove 2,400 miles cross country to establish a home in Michigan. This decision was a big one because I had never imagined leaving Alaska. Alaska was my home; I was born and raised in southeast, and matured into the person I am today in the northern interior. Right out of high school, I centered my life around sled dogs and the northern culture. I loved driving teams of dogs through frosty forests, I loved telling people I lived in North Pole (look it up, it's a real place), and more than anything, I loved the close community of friends and peers I had built over my time as a university student and tour guide.
When I sat down to think of what I wanted to do for my first-ever winter collection, I kept getting frustrated because my mind wandered toward what I would miss about Alaskan winters, rather than focusing on what Michigan had to offer me. I made this decision with my fiancé, encouraged by a lower cost of living, the possibility of larger tracts of land for our homestead, and the overall accessibility of the heritage breeds, equipment, and potential this state would grant us. It is so darn easy to slip into feeling like all the work you put toward something, that didn't pan out the way you wanted, was all for not; that the identity you had carefully crafted for years was suddenly null.
Not only did I love the lifestyle, but I felt very connected to the physical land, the earth of Alaska and the Yukon. The flora and fauna are friends, and the memories of all the adventures I had during childhood onward were loud. I felt comfortable in my skills to live off the land in an emergency situation, which brought me immense safety. Moving across the country, while still a similar environment (lots of natural water, towering forests, and lots of plants to use), was new. I had zero experience with ticks, fleas, snakes, poison ivy, large arachnids. That was very scary. Not only did I essentially have to start over learning the plants in my area, but I really had to learn to AVOID some.
I don't personally prescribe to any one religion, and I don't find myself necessarily religious. What I do believe in though, is that everything happens for a reason and more often than not, for the best. This transition and really this time of year has forced me to slow down and remember all that I have to be grateful for. While I loved my sled dogs with all of my heart, and I still get weepy when memories pop up on my feed, I am grateful that I no longer carry the stress of ornery neighbors and financial responsibility. These days I go into the woods and rather than be overwhelmed with all I have to learn, I see it as an opportunity to broaden my skillset and knowledge to grow into a more well-rounded herbalist. The friends I made during this time of my life will be around a while I suppose, and although I would love to live before technology, my iPhone exists, and the ease of texting bring endless possibilities in communication.
So, this winter, I wanted to honor my time spent as a tour guide and dog musher in the the interior of Alaska with the following bars:
Frosty Forest 🌲 This bar is the color of the glaciers and fresh river ice, a light but deeply cold blue. It is topped with Rose hips picked fresh and dried personally as one of my last harvests in the Dyea Valley in SE AK. These tiny rose hips are small in size, mighty in benefits, and just a pleasure to look at. This bar fills the shower with a bold and spicy fir scent, reminiscent of days cruising the forest trails with the best dog team I knew. Imagine yourself behind a team of wild sled dogs, hollering through the woods on crusted trails, basking in the teamwork and silence.
North Pole ❄️ This minty little bar is a warm cream color with charming caramel swirls. This bar actually did not turn out the way I wanted. Only after mixing and swirling my soaps did I read that beetroot powder looses it's vibrant pinkish hue in cold process soap. So, it may not look like a candy cane swirl, but it smells like it, and still yields the benefits of the beetroot and peppermint leaf, rich in antioxidants and Vitamin C to brighten complexion. This one I chose not to top because North Pole, AK is pretty simple, but that's how I liked it. Wash your body with it, and you'll feel transported to Alaska with it's minty whispers.
Vanilla Chai ☕️ This bar was fun to make. It's colored a deep caramel color and sprinkled with poppy seeds for a gentle scrub. It looks like a warm cinnamon-topped Chai with vanilla seeds dispersed. This bar was an ode to the many relationships I maintained while living as an doggy Alaskan dirtbag. My favorite memory for most are times we spent in nature with a warm drink. I don't drink coffee, but there is something about the ritual of having a warm beverage with friends that I don't think I would like to miss out on. So here's to more winter walks with new friends.
I think it's important when life starts to feel like it's turning sideways to stop and breathe, to remember that although it may not have gone like you planned, there are so many things that you can be grateful for.
PS all this talk about being grateful makes me want to puke because I guess all the reminders from my mom about gratitude growing up must have actually stuck.