BlackHive, Winnipeg, MB (2026)

09/02/2026

Staghorn Sumac—Baakwaanimizh (Rhus typhina) is a native plant of Turtle Island, long held in relationship with people, land, food, medicine, and seasonal knowledge. In herb lore, sumac is connected with Mercury, the messenger, the wanderer, the connector, carrying the energy of communication, movement, adaptability, and change. Its brilliant red clusters appear as summer gives way to autumn, offering their tart, lemony berries for teas, sumacade, food, and traditional uses, while the wood and bark have also been useful for dyes, tools, and other everyday purposes. But for me, the most important part is the relationship. When we harvest, we are not simply taking. We are entering into an exchange with the living world. We gather with gratitude, with care, and with the understanding that we have a responsibility to give back. If we take berries, we plant seeds. If the land feeds us, we tend the land. We return what we can. I’ll be planting sumac in abundance where I’m tending this land, saving mature berry clusters and growing new trees from their seeds, so that what I harvest becomes part of creating more. Not just taking from the forest, but participating in it. Planting, tending, harvesting, giving back, and allowing the relationship to continue.

08/30/2026

Something I’ve been noticing for quite a while, and I’m not saying this to call anyone out. I’m saying it because I think we need to be honest about what we’re looking at.
There is nothing wrong with sharing the beautiful parts of your life. We need joy. We need art. We need creativity, laughter, connection and moments of ordinary human happiness.
But when the world is burning, people are being displaced, Indigenous lands and rights are being violated, governments are making decisions that profoundly affect millions of people, and entire populations are being subjected to violence, and your public presence remains almost entirely curated around your lifestyle, your work, your products, your parties and your personal successes, I think it’s fair to ask what that silence means.
Because silence is not always neutrality.
Sometimes silence is self preservation. Sometimes it’s fear. Sometimes people simply don’t know what to say.

And sometimes silence is complicity.

I see this particularly clearly in the fashion and creative industries. There is a very real pressure to remain commercially palatable. People watch what you post. They watch what you say. They decide whether you are “safe” to associate with. Speak too loudly about injustice, colonialism, genocide, environmental destruction, exploitation or political corruption, and suddenly certain doors don’t open quite as easily.
You may not be explicitly censored. You simply stop being invited.
And that creates an interesting little ecosystem where people learn to keep their politics out of their professional profiles, keep their heads down, promote the product, post the pretty picture and carry on.
But here’s the uncomfortable part:
If your ability to participate in a particular social or professional ecosystem depends upon your willingness to remain silent about suffering, then that ecosystem is already political.
There is no such thing as a completely apolitical public platform. Choosing what we acknowledge, and what we deliberately leave out, is political too.
I’m not suggesting everyone needs to turn their social media into a 24 hour news feed. I’m not suggesting people aren’t allowed to have beautiful lives. Of course they are.
I’m questioning the normalization of looking away.
Because there is a difference between protecting your joy and protecting your comfort.
And sometimes what gets called “staying positive” is simply refusing to look directly at what is happening outside our own little bubble.
We can make beautiful things while the world is hurting.
We can celebrate life while refusing to become indifferent to the lives being destroyed around us.
We can hold joy and outrage at the same time.

In fact, I think we have to.

Because when witnessing becomes inconvenient, and silence becomes professionally advantageous, we should at least have the courage to acknowledge what we’re participating in.

08/29/2026

Just having a little fun in the studio with this death moth buckle belt with decorative little metal buds.
Hope you’re are all doing well out there.
I picked up this gorgeous antique sofa this morning, and she fits perfectly in this space.
Honestly, I think every gal needs a little studio in the forest, a place to create, putter, breathe.

It’s hot and humid where I am, and I’m loving this time of year. I’m going to head out into the forest and selectively pick dead wood for the garden, to prepare a good sized plot so it’s ready for next year’s growing season.
Take good care out there🌿✨

08/22/2026

There’s something beautiful about making things by hand. I can carry my tools in a suitcase and make almost anything wherever I land. It’s slower, a little more costly, and never perfectly perfect,
and that’s the point. Handmade holds the hands, the time, and the story of the maker.
Shout out to my grandmother for teaching me these skills when I was a wee one. I’m am forever grateful❣️
Last night I started one of two custom harnesses for Mya. I’ll finish the second one this week and send them off into the world.

Photo shoots with Betsy are always a good idea. I picked this old girl up in Vancouver a few years ago. She just rolled over 100,000 kms, and what a queen!
Pictured are some of my favourite things to include a robe from shakti | winnipeg/kenora that recently got a denim pocket, and I’ll probably add a few more, because you can never have too many pockets! the sweetest little sheepskin vest, a chunky amber and brass choker, Mya’s harness, vintage bloomers from Zoe McCrea vintage mukluks from Candis Militere and my gorgeous leather hat.
Now, I’m off to requeen a hive.
I hope you’re all doing well out there, friends.

08/19/2026

The distinction between native and invasive species is really about relationships and balance within an ecosystem. Native plants and insects have evolved alongside one another over generations, and some insects have very specific relationships with particular plants for food, reproduction, shelter, or raising their young.
That doesn’t mean native insects won’t use invasive plants. They absolutely will, especially when those plants offer abundant nectar or pollen. An adult butterfly, for example, might feed on the nectar of an invasive flower, while its larvae may still depend on a particular native plant to survive. So seeing insects using an invasive plant doesn’t necessarily mean that plant is providing everything they need.
I looked up the Himalayan Balsam a few years ago when I found it growing in a back lane. It’s native to the Himalayas and different parts of Asia and has those fascinating seed pods that explode and scatter their seeds when they’re ripe.
The concern with plants like this is what happens when they spread and begin replacing the diversity of native plants. When those plants disappear, so do the relationships and habitat they support. It’s not just about one plant or one insect, it’s about the entire web of life connected to them.
So, yes, you could keep an invasive plant in your backyard and watch insects enjoy it. But why intentionally maintain something that has the potential to spread when we can grow native plants that strengthen the ecosystem we actually live in? What we plant today can outlast us, and the next person may not know what it is or understand its impact. That’s where a small personal choice can become part of a much larger ecological shift.

08/15/2026

I’ve been a beekeeper for more than a decade, and this proposed “solution” to Varroa mites is absolute nonsense. Injecting bees is another attempt to engineer our way out of an ecological problem rather than addressing the conditions that created it.
The bigger issue is ecosystem health. Decades of pesticides, herbicides, and other pollutants have placed enormous stress on insects and the environments they depend on. We disrupt natural systems, then try to control the consequences with even more intervention.
There’s also the issue of scale. Honeybees are not native to much of the world, yet we continue to concentrate them in increasingly large numbers. Personally, I consider even 20 hives large scale. My own operation is intentionally small: I keep only a few hives, harvest modestly, and share a little honey with family and friends. My gardens are built around native plants and native pollinators, which are better adapted to our local environment.

We need to stop asking how much we can produce and start asking what the ecosystem can sustainably support.

That means restoring habitat, protecting native pollinators, reducing chemical inputs, and working with nature rather than continually trying to control it.
And fundamentally, it is not possible to care for land sustainably while treating it as a commodity. Sustainable stewardship requires removing land from the market and protecting it from the pressures of endless production and consumption.

We need to get back to nature,
not find more sophisticated ways to manipulate it.

BlackHive

09/02/2026

08/30/2026

08/29/2026

08/22/2026

08/19/2026

08/15/2026

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