2025 was… a lot.
It was a year of injuries, frustration, forced stillness, and unexpected creativity. A fractured knee. Broken toes. A small eyelid carcinoma that, thankfully, was caught early and treated. None of it life‑ending, but all of it life‑interrupting. One thing after another stacked up, and before I knew it, much of my hiking season — my therapy, my grounding, my joy — was gone.
Losing time on the trail hit harder than I expected. Hiking has always been how I reset, how I breathe, how I remind myself who I am. Without it, I slipped into a quiet depression that lingered longer than I wanted to admit. My body needed rest, but my spirit didn’t know what to do with the pause.
So I created.
During that slow, frustrating season, my hands stayed busy even when my feet couldn’t. I made a lot of trees — wire‑wrapped, rooted, reaching. Looking back, that feels symbolic now. Trees that stand still. Trees that grow anyway. Then, almost out of nowhere, the spiders arrived. Playful, expressive, a little magical. Once they showed up, ideas started flowing again, and something shifted.
Creativity became my movement.
Now, with my medical hurdles (mostly) behind me — knock on wood — I’m finally easing back into the life I’ve worked so hard to build. By day, I work full time as a pharmacy technician at a small hospital. It’s steady, demanding work, and balancing it with a handmade business is no small task. Beneath the Oak Designs is a one‑woman operation layered on top of a very full life.
This year, I seriously questioned whether I could keep my shop open. Running a small business is so much more than making art — it’s listings, photos, inventory, marketing, emails, finances, time management, and about a hundred invisible jobs no one talks about. It can get overwhelming fast.
After a lot of thought, I chose to keep going.
I decided to keep my store open, keep creating, and keep truckin’. The focus moving into the new year is organization, balance, and better use of my time. I’m learning to work with my energy instead of against it, and to give myself grace when things move slower than planned.
Of course, creating the art is still the best part.
As I head into the next chapter, I’m also training for a backpacking trip in the Grand Canyon — something that feels both grounding and wildly exciting after a year of physical setbacks. It’s a reminder that my body is capable, my spirit is resilient, and forward motion doesn’t always look the same — but it still counts.
Here’s to a year of healing, creativity, and showing up anyway. I’m hopeful for what’s ahead — in art, on the trail, and everywhere in between.
If you’ve made it this far, thank you for being here. Supporting a small, one-woman business means more than you know — whether that looks like visiting my shop, sharing my work, or simply following along as I continue to create.
Each piece I make carries a bit of this journey with it — the pauses, the healing, the growth, and the joy of making something by hand. I’m excited to see where the new year leads, and I’m grateful to have you walking alongside me, on and off the trail.
Here’s to moving forward, one small, meaningful step at a time. 🌿
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