Each holiday, I like to put out something that makes our home—especially our dining room—feel warm and inviting. The table has always felt like the heart of the season. It’s where we gather, linger a little longer, and mark time together.
But recently, I noticed something had shifted.
The very things meant to create warmth were starting to feel heavy. Too many linens. Too many bins. Too much stuff tied to moments that were supposed to feel meaningful.
Around the same time, life forced me to slow down.
After being laid off from my “pay the bills” job, the constant pace I’d been living at finally paused. My days had been filled with rushed routines, meetings stacked back-to-back, and quiet moments squeezed in wherever they would fit. When that pace stopped, it gave me space to breathe—and to rethink how I wanted my days and my home to feel.
A few years earlier, our family had helped move a relative into assisted living, sorting through a lifetime of belongings. When she passed not long after, we did it all again. It made me think about what we hold onto, what we let go of, and what we leave behind for those we love.
It stayed with me.
I realized two things.
First, I don’t want our children to one day carry the weight of sorting through so much.
Second, I still deeply value the warmth of seasons and traditions—but I want them to feel lighter, simpler, and more intentional.
So I started with the table.
Each season, I’d been fully swapping out tablecloths, runners, placemats—pieces that didn’t always relate to one another or to the rest of our home. What if instead of replacing everything, I changed just one element? What if the colors flowed naturally with the space we already lived in?
I love blues, greens, pale pinks, and rust—colors inspired by a simple set of Christmas ornaments I once bought. Those colors quietly became the foundation of our home.
Instead of seasonal excess, I imagined a baseline—pieces that could stay, with small, thoughtful swaps as the seasons changed. A placemat here. A napkin there. Familiar, but refreshed.
The ritual remained. The clutter didn’t.
That’s where Sustain & Gather began.
Not as a solution to everything. Not as a declaration of perfect sustainability. But as a way to make everyday rituals feel intentional again—to set the table with care, to gather without overwhelm, to choose fewer things that do more.
I believe sustainability looks different for everyone. You might still love a shampoo that comes in a plastic bottle but choose eco-friendly cleaners when you can. I see you. Effort matters, even when it’s imperfect.
Sustain & Gather is about small, mindful choices that add up over time. Pieces meant to be used, loved, and kept. Objects that support slower living and meaningful connection—whether that’s a quiet morning, a shared meal, or a table set with intention.
This is just the beginning. I have dreams of handmade cups, woven chargers, and pieces created from what already exists. But at its heart, Sustain & Gather is an invitation:
To slow down.
To gather thoughtfully.
To make space for what truly matters.
Glad you are here. Stay tuned for more!
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