It’s porch sittin’ time.

This is my final letter post for the spring season - how can it be?

As spring draws to a close here in the high country, I thought it would be fun to gather a few favorite things from around the porch before we turn the page to summer.

Some are recent stories, some are from The Gift Library, and a few are simply things that brought me joy this season.

The Tiny Bookcase Tour

One of the unexpected joys of spring for me has been sharing little peeks into my tiny bookcase - a surprisingly revealing glimpse into the books, stories, and curiosities that make a home feel personal. Continuing through summer with this one in the Substack Notes app, if you’d like to join me there.

Spring Garden Fairies

A small reminder that not everything worth discovering needs to be practical or important. Sometimes a garden fairy and a moment of magic are enough.

This weekly Notes series on the Substack app has been a real favorite of many, and I’m planning to continue with Cicely Mary Barker’s Summer Fairies for a touch of sweetness.

Thank you for spending part of your spring here on the porch with me.

Whether you've been reading from the beginning or have only recently pulled up a chair, I'm grateful you're here. Truly.

I'll see you next week, every Friday, as we begin a new season together.

With contentment & possibility,

P.S. If we were sharing a proper porch sit together this evening, I'd probably ask: How was your spring? What are you planting, planning, making, reading, or dreaming about this summer? What’s your favorite porch sittin’ beverage? Do you switch from red wine to white for the season? Let me know what’s on your mind…

Leave a comment

Greetings dearest reader,

This guide was created as a companion to the Design Dispatch story, A Meadow Landscape: From Bare Lot to Layered Garden.

Inside, you’ll find a thoughtfully organized collection of trees, shrubs, grasses, meadow plants, pollinator favorites, and seasonal perennials used throughout the Meadow Landscape project in Zone 7. It includes 47 pages of beautifully presented design guidance and inspiration.

The guide includes planting roles, sun and water notes, design principles, color cues and palettes, and quick-reference lists to help you think more intentionally about how layered gardens come together.

Paid members of the porch can download and keep the companion botanical guide from this project, along with a larger view of the design plan to zoom in and study. To access the download scroll down to the bottom of this letter.

What’s Inside the Guide

Table of Contents

Opening Note

How to Use This Guide

Sun & Water Notes

Design Principles Behind The Meadow Landscape

Botanical Inspiration Color Palette

Structural Trees & Shade Canopy

Evergreen Structure & Screening

Meadow & Pollinator Perennials

Grasses & Movement

Rock Garden & Desert Plants

Fragrance & Cottage Garden Plants

Bulbs & Seasonal Layering

Final Thoughts

Quick Reference: Plants by Water Need

Quick Reference: Plants by Sun Exposure

Quick Reference: Plants for Wildlife Habitat & Pollinators

Quick Reference: Plants for Cut Flowers

Quick Reference: Plants with Herbal History

An Important Note on Using this Guide Thoughtfully

Large Image to Download and View

Botanical Inspiration Color Palette (sample page)

The Story Behind the Design Process

With contentment & possibility,

P.S. This was a real labor of love to put together for all you lovely people - I truly hope you enjoy it and I can’t wait to create more gifts that help you craft a smaller, simpler, more beautiful life.

Seasonal Gift Downloads for Paid Members of the Porch 👇🏼

Read more

Greetings my dear reader,

I talk an awful lot about historic and smaller homes. It is truly my passion, and my favorite type of properties to work with homeowners on.

But in reality, the majority of the design projects I work on are large properties and newer homes - and in many cases they are even brand new builds. Often I’m asked to put together the design before the structure of the home is even complete, and in one instance before construction had even begun.

One of the challenges with new-build homes is that everything can feel abrupt.

Fresh walls. Bare soil. Little shade. No sense of age or personality or belonging yet.

This project in Prescott began exactly there - with an empty lot, strong sun, persistent winds, difficult soil, and a desire to create a garden that felt established, welcoming, and connected to the architecture from the very beginning.

This isn’t intended to be a highly technical how-to article or an exhaustive explanation of every plant and design decision.

Instead, I wanted to share more of a behind-the-scenes glimpse into the process - how an empty new-build lot gradually became a layered, livable garden designed around seasonality, structure, beauty, and everyday use.

Even if you’re not particularly interested in gardening itself, I think there’s something fascinating about seeing how thoughtful spaces take shape over time.

Meadow Landscape

A gardener's garden on a newly built 1/3-a​​cre lot, featuring meadows, shade trees, a large water feature, and native sanctuary for birds and wildlife. From bare, tree-less dirt to fabulous in 6 months. The Dells, Prescott, Arizona. USDA Hardiness zone is 7b and the elevation is 5,200 feet. Project completed fall 2022.

The Before

This property is in a large development area on the north side of the community, the kind where they release large sub-developments over time. The natural landscape up there is quite open and a grassland-type ecosystem in the high desert at 5,200 foot elevation.

This means that the newer home lots are quite exposed initially, and because there is a vast landscape up there it’s often rather windy.

When I was brought in, the home was nearly complete but there was literally nothing else. Not a tree in sight. No privacy what-so-ever. The home was large and dominated the lot. The lot had no discernible features - it was just very large and flat and … flat.

The drainage was a disaster. The dirt was - well really clay. The green stuff growing in the clay was not much more than tumbleweed and other scrappy weeds.

The Ask

The homeowners were interested in a landscape for a gardener - the wife had been an active gardener since their earlier life in the Midwest and had come to love the southwest.

Specifically they wanted a less manicured or overly designed looking plan - one with meadows and plantings that would connect to the open grasslands and mountains without a harsh border. There were specific views to maximize for stargazing, evening cocktails, and morning bird watching, as well as pollinators to feed and attract. The need for subtle privacy while keeping the space feeling natural and open was important.

There was a long list of much loved plants to consider - she had very specific varieties in mind - some were headed in the right direction, and some belonged in Ohio.

My role is to interpret, to listen, to get to really know not only the property but also the people who live there. My goal is to turn their wish list into a living canvas that elevates their lifestyle in the ways most meaningful to them.

I’m always a bit overwhelmed at this point with new builds - how to go from nothing to an enchanted space. It’s a lot to envision and pull together.

The Design Thinking

Creating Structure First

I always start with the foundation. Even on an existing older home. It’s like building a house or a layer cake - it’s all about the layers and each layer is only as stable and fabulous as the layer beneath it.

In this case, the space would ultimately be defined by the edges of the property which are the home on the south and two tallish block walls on the sides - the back edge will become a small open wall - really just to keep wildlife out of the space.

From there, I wanted to shape how the landscape would actually feel to move through and experience day to day - the views from inside the home, the pathways through the garden, the moments of pause, and the subtle sense of invitation and discovery as you moved through the space.

You’ll notice that I drew in those site lines with the pale yellow wedges and arrows (you gotta zoom in a bit to see those clearly).

The circulation was defined by walkways, gathering points, living spaces like patios for relaxing and being in the landscape, and of course primary focal points to draw the eye and create a sense of curiosity and destination while moving about.

For the Meadow Garden, the homeowners were looking for that open relaxed feeling, so we weren’t going to be creating garden rooms per se, but I still really wanted a sense of definition and structure.

For this core structure, I also knew we needed some anchor points and shade elements with larger shrubs and trees. I added those in along with a planned sloping rock garden along the west side of the property to soften the shift in elevation - the next house over is on a lot about two to three feet higher up than this one.

Here’s what I came up with, after two earlier renditions that we refined:

Designing for Four Seasons

The living layer of the design includes of course the plantings, as well as the furnishings and structures.

I wanted a seasonal layered bloom progression, with a strong evergreen backbone.

We worked hard at building in textures and winter interest, along with a loosely cohesive color palette.

Let’s face it - in a natural setting you won’t find a 5-color refined color scheme that coordinates with your seating upholstery. And for this garden to feel like it belonged and was well rooted, it needed to be connected to surrounding landscape and climate.

My initial planning focused in on three primary planting zones, and within those I did create loosely themed areas within the larger garden for a sense of movement, function, and sensory interest:

• fragrance garden

• rock garden

• cutting garden

• cactus and succulent beds

• grasses and bulbs meadow

• mediterranean and desert plant garden

• and raised beds for herbs and veg

Balancing Beauty & Practicality

Aside from the aesthetics and sensory enjoyment of this space, there were many more practical elements that needed to be included in the design thinking.

The obvious practical items include things like lighting (although in my view this is one of the most artistic ways to increase the beauty and accessibility of the space), mulching layers and materials, and of course irrigation.

But there’s more to making a landscape successful in the long-term, which are often neglected elements. Things like the useability and access of the spaces by people as they retire and age, the maintenance levels required as the plantings shift through the seasons and mature, and of course supporting and encouraging wildlife - to the extent that the owners make that a priority.

The owners here were avid bird watchers and star gazers. And they had retired a few years earlier and planned to age in place and wanted to continue to enjoy their landscape for as long as possible.

While they were willing to get some maintenance support a couple of times a year, they planned to do most of the weekly and seasonal tasks on their own, so I needed to make selections that weren’t going to be too taxing.

Making a New Build Feel Rooted

Perhaps most of all, the climate and micoclimate of each garden is something that is always at the core of the choices and decisions I make. It’s tricky for me sometimes, because I may be working with homeowners who lived for decades in the mid-west and they often have strong feelings about familiar and favorite plants that just can’t thrive on their property.

You may recall that these homeowners gave me lengthy and very detailed lists of plants that they wanted in their space. It’s hard for me not wanting to disappoint them initially, but I was truly invested in the long term success of their garden and wanted to ensure that our selections would have the best chance of not only surviving but thriving.

When I’m working on a huge transformation like a new build, I’m planning for the maturity of the landscape.

And I always have that conversation with the homeowners - repeatedly - where I explain that the initial plantings will take several seasons, and in some cases many years, to reach maturity.

The Final Design Plan

The After

The homeowners here were thrilled and excited with the design we came up with.

It took us about 3 months of work to complete the process.

And then the installation finally could begin - which took about 6 months to complete.

Sure enough, I remember the homeowners grappling with the small size of the plants and especially the trees and shrubs. We had spent so much time envisioning the mature landscape and planning for that.

We got to be friends during this process and it was such a thrill to see their excitement and joy as the garden settled in and came to life.

After three seasons, they could see the larger trees really spreading and anchoring the space.

We did have a couple of failures - plants that just didn’t do well. And that’s totally normal, to be expected. There’s a period of adjustment, tweaking and fussing that occurs during that first full season.

It’s a process. It takes time. And then, it’s a living and shifting space that continues to forever evolve.

And then finally, the magic of the landscape begins to feel settled, softening the home and wrapping around it like it had always belonged there.

The Garden Beginning to Mature

In its third full season, I captured a few snapshots - this was spring in 2025. And this garden is even more glorious in autumn.

I never tire of the satisfaction and joy that comes from bringing someone’s vision and dream to life - their dream, not mine. Every landscape has a personality, and it should truly reflect that of the homeowners who inhabit that space every day.

Gardens are one of the few creative works that continue unfolding long after the design drawings are finished, and the installation is completed.

Client Reflection

We cannot say we had a 'good' experience with Miriam of The Whiskey Porch – it was an exceptional experience.

We contacted four local landscape companies to discuss our landscaping and design concerns. Only two responded back. Only one had listened to what we wanted; Miriam of The Whiskey Porch. Yes, listened and then interviewed us.

She wanted to get a real feeling of what we envisioned and desired. The initial plan was wonderful. It incorporated the “yard” feeling that we wanted to achieve and took some things to a better place.

Plant selection? She also listened there and brought a font of knowledge regarding plants to us. She is an exceptional master gardener with insight as to how plants will grow, mature and thrive in the area.

​We couldn’t be more pleased with this extraordinary experience.

Kudos to a job well done.

The Meadow Landscape: Curated Botanical Guide

[ A Seasonal Gift for Paid Members of the Porch ]

A thoughtfully organized collection of trees, shrubs, grasses, meadow plants, pollinator favorites, and seasonal perennials used throughout the Meadow Landscape project in Zone 7. 47 pages of beautifully presented design guidance.

Paid members of the porch can unlock my companion botanical guide from this project👇🏼 , including botanical names, planting roles, and growing notes, and the color palette, and a larger view of the design plan.

Thank you for joining me for this behind-the-scenes look at creating a living landscape from nothing. It’s a rewarding and demanding process that I feel so fortunate to spend part of my days engaged in.

With contentment & possibility,

P.S. If you’ve been with me for a while, you know I usually send out my Friday letters in the morning. There was a lot of good stuff to put together for this one, so now it’s gotten to mid-afternoon and I’m just finally hitting send. Pheww! Have a fabulous evening and weekend my friends.

One of my favorite spring meals from the kitchen garden is French sorrel and leek soup with fresh dill.

Bright, lemony, comforting, and deeply seasonal, French sorrel is surprisingly easy to grow. While it’s often confused with spinach - it’s actually more closely related to buckwheat and rhubarb.

This spring soup is one of my favorite ways to use it - simple ingredients and that unmistakable bright tang from the sorrel itself. It feels both humble and elegant at the same time, like something you might have been served in a small countryside kitchen generations ago.

Sorrel is surprisingly difficult to find in American grocery stores, but wonderfully easy to grow at home, especially in cooler climates. The leaves emerge early, bright green and tender, in early spring. The plant is hardy to zone 3, though it tends to struggle in hot, dry climates with intense sun.

Serve it with crème fraîche, clipped pea sprouts, and a crusty bread slathered with good, cultured butter.

Read more

I hope spring has fully settled herself into your little part of the world, and that she’s smiling with you.

A funny thing happened recently.

A few new readers have found their way here to the porch over the past few weeks - hello! And Welcome!

And I realized I’ve never really properly introduced myself - or explained what exactly this space is meant to be.

You’ve seen the gardens and our historic bungalow, Juniper Hill Cottage. The flowers and porch sittin’. The thoughts on beauty, smaller living, design, creativity, and seasonal life.

But I hadn’t really gathered all of those threads together in one place before.

And so this week, I finally sat down and wrote something called Welcome to the Porch.

What started as a simple introduction became something much more personal than I expected - it became a reflection on the winding path that led me here, from Silicon Valley and the NFL to this little 1924 cottage in the mountains of northern Arizona. And to you.

More than that, though, it became a reflection on the kind of life I think many of us are deeply longing for now:

A life that feels more like home.
More intentional.
More connected.
Smaller, simpler, and more beautiful.

Not perfect.
Not performative.
Just honest, meaningful, and deeply lived.

If you’re newer here, or if you’ve been reading along for awhile and wondering what exactly “The Whiskey Porch” really is - well - I wrote this for you.

And before I go, I just wanted to thank you for spending part of your Fridays here with me.

Truly.

Writing you these letters has become one of my favorite parts of the week.

Some days I wonder if it’s silly to spend so much time talking about beauty, gardens, creativity, home, and seasonal living while the world feels so crazy and chaotic.

But the older I get, the more I believe these things aren’t trivial at all.

I think beauty matters.
I think joy and laughter matters.
I think creating a smaller and simpler life matters.

Maybe now more than ever.

And I’m so grateful you’re here beside me for it. I’ll see you next week.

With contentment & possibility,

P.S. If you feel like replying, I would love to know how you found your way here to the porch. I always enjoy hearing what part of the world you are visiting from and what you’re thinking about. What projects are on your weekend list?

Leave a comment

I’m so glad you found me.

I’m Miriam - founder of The Whiskey Porch, my Creative Design Studio here in the high-country of northern Arizona.

From executive leadership in Silicon Valley & the NFL to designing spaces and lives shaped by place, season & beauty - it’s been a windy and somewhat unexpected journey that eventually led me here, to this space, and to you.

If you’ve ever felt that overwhelm of modern life, that drifting and disconnect from something essential, and something grounded, then perhaps you’ve found the right place.

Here on the porch, we explore the art of living well through thoughtful home, garden, and seasonal design.

This goes deeper than decorating or craft to focus on seasonal living, creativity, and the small daily rituals that help life feel rooted and meaningful.

And this is not your typical slow-living content - I promise!

We aren’t ignoring politics or the chaos we see and feel around us - we are nurturing the good we still deeply crave: beauty, meaning, joy, connection, creativity, laughter, and home.

Holding on to these ephemeral bits of life can be a challenge, and I’m here to help you seek the joy and beauty - always the beauty. I believe these things matter more now than ever before.

The Whiskey Porch is both a real place and a metaphorical one.

The real Whiskey Porch belongs to our historic 1924 Craftsman bungalow here in Prescott - in the mountains of northern Arizona. (I’ll share the story of that porch and it’s name below.)

And the metaphorical porch is the space we gather together, here - to slow down a little, notice more deeply, and create lives that feel smaller, simpler, and more beautiful.

Locally, I design timeless homes and gardens as one cohesive whole, integrating architecture, landscape, and the rhythms of seasonal living.

Through my Creative Studio, my work also extends into publishing, handcrafted work, and occasional programs and workshops designed to help you create thoughtful homes and gardens of your own.

I didn’t always understand these ideas so clearly. This way of living took time - decades.

Like many of you, I spent years chasing a very different definition of success.

I have no regrets but, the truth is, I arrived at this porch in a somewhat unexpected manner. It wasn’t one “aha” moment, but more of a slow realization.

A dream at first. Then came the doubt and fear that often accompany meaningful change. And then one foot after the other it began to shift.

Now, of course, looking back it feels like I’ve come home - literally and figuratively.

And I know now that it’s entirely possible to build a life that feels more aligned and meaningful. While I sort of wish I’d made this shift earlier in life, I wouldn’t have the perspective to truly relish it the way that I do now.

And it certainly took years to really get to know myself well enough to make the truly personal choices for fulfillment rather than following the inherited definitions of success.

Perhaps you’ve experienced some of this yourself?

Recently, I wanted to share this personal story, in more detail, and it became a letter called When Success Stops Feeling Like Success. It’s about walking away from Silicon Valley, the NFL, and a big life - to create something smaller, simpler, and more beautiful.

Many of the changes and decisions were initially very practical and tangible. This was perfectly fine, because big changes come with little steps.

But slowly, almost without realizing it, I began making choices that felt more personal, more intentional, and ultimately more honest.

I wasn’t re-inventing myself. I was finding myself and setting an anchor. A Truer Kind of Honesty is a reflection on truth, performance, and living what we believe.

I like to think that every change and decision was entirely intentional.

Do you know that saying “be careful what you wish for”?

The truth is that sometimes you get what you need - even without realizing it. And then, as those wiser than I have said, you need to ‘be ready when the luck happens’. Be open to opportunity.

We didn’t really intend to buy an old bungalow. It was the last thing on our minds.

But one day trip changed everything, and set us on a path toward reinvention that would eventually grow into The Whiskey Porch and our compass, and my “small-not-tiny” design philosophy that now guides so much of my work and life.

The story of that unexpected turn - and how we We Accidentally Bought a Bungalow - is about openness, reinvention, and the surprising ways life sometimes leads us exactly where we were meant to be.

Since that day, 16 years ago, I have come to realize that beauty, design, gardens, creativity, and seasonality are not luxuries - they shape the quality of our lives.

They bring depth and meaning, and a rhythm that is a true gift.

And over the years, I’ve found myself returning often to what I really mean when I use the word “design.”

🌼Not Instagram-perfect

🌼Not Pinterest-influencer

🌼Not trend-driven, perfomative luxury

To me, thoughtful design is something far more personal and meaningful:

• thoughtful spaces that support emotional wellbeing

• gardens that reconnect us to rhythm and attention

• beauty that nourishes us deeply

• creativity woven into ordinary life

• homes that feel intentional and lived-in

• and the understanding that smaller and simpler can still feel rich, expansive, and deeply beautiful

These ideas eventually became the heart of Creating Beauty Is Enough - a true story about beauty, the art of contentment, and what really matters.

Perhaps that’s really what The Whiskey Porch has been about all along - contentment & possibility. Holding onto the good: joy, beauty, connection, creativity, laughter, and home.

If some part of you has been longing for that, then perhaps you’ve found your way here for a reason. ✨

With contentment & possibility,

There’s something truly remarkable about herbs - and I’m not talking just about cooking with culinary herbs.

Last week was National Herb Day, and it got me thinking about the breadth and value of herbs in a life well lived. While I’m not an herbalist or certified in any way, I am truly in awe of herbs and have spent quite some time and space in my gardens exploring and learning.

I find it so thrilling to remember all that herbs (and plants in general) have contributed to our modern way of life. Long before herbs became just a trifle in your garden patch to spruce up your salad or soup, they lived comfortably as an essential element of life.

Herbs were integral in culinary traditions of course, but also in health and wellness, rituals, self-care, art, fragrance.

Herbs were woven into everyday life.

We lost that somewhere along the way.

Over time, that old wisdom has began reshaping my own garden as well.

When I first began setting up my current kitchen garden, I had set aside one large raised bed for culinary herbs along with a couple of tomato plants, tomatillos, and such.

The other beds were dedicated to herbs of all kinds. I have 6 very large raised beds. I think at one point I was growing and getting to know something like 78 different herbs. I get a lot raised eyebrows when I mention that. It’s apparent that most people don’t realize there are that many herbs to begin with.

Most of us hear the word herb and immediately think of basil, parsley, or dill.

But herbs are far more expansive than that.

Historically, the word referred less to a specific culinary category and more to useful plants - plants valued for flavor, fragrance, medicine, ritual, dye, tea, beauty, or daily household life.

Herbs occupy one of the oldest and broadest plant traditions in human history. Some nourish us. Some heal. Some perfume the air or calm the nervous system. Some flavor food, attract pollinators, or simply make a garden feel alive. Many do all of those things at once.

Herbs are among the few plants that appeal to nearly every sense at once: their visual beauty, their scent and taste, the buzz of the pollinators, and the structure and texture of the leaves and blooms.

Just a few examples of some of the herbs I grow - to tempt your senses and imagination:

• Lavender - soft silver foliage, calming fragrance, violet blooms humming with bees, tea for restfulness, bundles for linen cupboards, and one of the most sensory-rich plants a garden can offer.

• Chamomile - tiny sun-like flowers with an apple-like scent, soothing evening tea, pollinator favorite, and a gentle reminder that usefulness can also be delicate and beautiful.

• Yarrow - feathery foliage, broad flower clusters in muted earthy tones, long medicinal history, drought tolerance, and a sweet wild meadow quality.

• Bee Balm - vibrant shaggy blooms alive with hummingbirds and bees, aromatic foliage, herbal tea uses, and a joyful burst of midsummer energy.

• Fennel - airy fern-like texture that catches evening light beautifully, sweet anise fragrance, culinary use from fronds to seed, and host plant for swallowtail butterflies.

• Hyssop (also known as Agastache) - intensely aromatic foliage, upright spires of blooms beloved by pollinators, centuries of ritual and medicinal association, and a lovely old-world garden presence.

• Lemon Balm - bright citrus fragrance released at the slightest touch, calming teas, fresh green texture, and one of those plants that almost invites you to slow down and breathe deeply. (I’m sipping some warm lemon balm tea right now.)

• Anise Hyssop - soft licorice-mint scent, lavender flower spikes buzzing with pollinators, tea and herbal uses, and a graceful prairie-garden feel.

• Sage - velvety leaves in soft gray-green tones and even purple, earthy fragrance, deeply savory culinary uses, drought resilience, and timeless beauty in both herb and ornamental gardens.

• Rosemary - evergreen structure, resinous fragrance released by warm sun, blue flowers for pollinators, culinary versatility, and centuries-old symbolism tied to memory and remembrance.

As my knowledge and understanding of herbs has grown and expanded, so too has the way I use them in my landscape.

I mentioned my deep dive growing 78 herbs in the kitchen garden a few years ago.

Now, it’s safe to say that every single bed, pot, and planting space on my property is fully integrated with plants for beauty and structure, and blooms for cutting - many of which are actually herbs. Amazingly, almost all of them are perennial as well.

I no longer restrict the herbs to a “kitchen garden“ beds, but incorporate them everywhere in the landscape with abandon.

And, honestly, I’ve also come to know that so many of the plants that I grew just for the landscape value, are actually old world herbs.

It’s come full circle.

Small rituals

There are so many simple ways herbs can enhance our daily lives and well-being, aside from the health benefits that require the aid of an herbalist.

Here are just a few small rituals that make life just a bit sweeter:

Like sunshine and crushed lemon leaves - delicate, bright, and sweet

Lemon balm (Melissa) bruises easily and releases its scent immediately, is best gathered in early morning or late afternoon, and fresh leaves taste softer and brighter than dried leaves.

How-to:

• Clip a small handful of fresh lemon balm

• Lightly crush or bruise the leaves between your fingers

• Pour hot water over them into a small teapot or large mug

• Steep 5–10 minutes

• Enjoy

Here’s quick little how-to video for you:

This is less a recipe than a simple method - you can use countless other herbs for this reset.

Somewhere between evergreen forest, warm earth, and sea air

Warm steam releases the aromatic oils, and the bouquet brings nature indoors.

How-to:

• Gather several rosemary stems (or rosemary + eucalyptus)

• Tie loosely with twine

• Hang from the showerhead where it catches steam and just a tiny bit of water

• Refresh weekly

• Breathe

This turns an ordinary shower into something sensory and intentional.

Like warm summer air drifting through linen curtains - nostalgic, floral, and soothing

Fresh lavender stems can just be cut off the plant, trimmed to a short posy bouquet, leaves and all, and tied with ribbon. I like to place it right next to my pillow.

How-to for a sachet:

• Dry lavender bundles upside down

• Strip blossoms once dry by gently rubbing the stems

• Place in a small linen pouch or shallow ceramic bowl

• Gently refresh by rubbing between fingers

Lavender will soothe your mind and lift your spirit.

Herbs remind us that a beautiful life is often built from very small things repeated with care. Perhaps that’s part of their enduring wisdom.

Small things, really. And yet somehow, these tiny rituals have a way of making a home feel more alive.

The elemental beauty of herbs is a gift worth relishing.

With contentment & possibility,

P.S. Thank you for being here with me. I’d truly love to know - is there an herb tied to memory, family, or ritual in your own life? Rosemary, mint, lavender, dill… these plants seem to carry stories with them. Oh, and if you have herbs growing nearby, pause for a moment sometime this weekend and simply brush your fingers across the leaves before you walk by. The fragrance released in warm spring air feels like a bit of magic.

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How was your “May Day” yesterday?

In many parts of the world, May 1st is traditionally the beginning of the summer season. Of course, it's still really spring here in the high country - and technically the summer solstice isn't until mid-June.

Good news! May is about planting and blooms and birds and pollinators.

That said, it’s important to stay alert.

We still have high chances of overnight frosts which can zap the life out of tender annuals, and newly planted perennials that are very young. So, it's wise to keep an eye on the forecast and keep your frost fabric handy until about May-15th or so.

I keep mine rolled up in a bin under a nearby deck - so it’s out of sight, but easy to grab.

And, ironically, May is one of our drier and hotter months. So that means that getting your watering system going and keeping it well maintained is a priority now, as well as mulching and shade.

May at Juniper Hill Cottage

A few behind-the-scenes notes from the garden as spring begins to settle in.

🌼What I’m Planting

• Plum Tomato - from a a nursery start - yep, I’m taking a shortcut this year 🤦🏼‍♀️

• Scabiosa ‘Fama White’ *

• Sea Holly (Eryngium zabelii) ‘Big Blue’

• Tall Verbena (Verbena bonariensis)

*direct sowing seeds in the ground

🌼What’s Blooming

• Climbing Rose ‘4th of July’ - it’s so early but it’s busting out striped blooms

• Rosa Banksiae (Lady Banks Rose) ‘Alba Plena’ - this is the white bloom

• Tulipa (tulips) ‘Nora’ - which just happens to share my granddaughter’s name

🌼My Biggest Challenge

Typically May brings some pretty dry and warm weather to the high-country. Because of our elevation at 5,600 feet, the intensity of the sun is very real. While I can’t predict what this month will bring, I did take some precautions.

We extended our rebar shade structure in the courtyard kitchen garden this winter and I use a 40% industrial grade fabric that you barely notice. But it should take the edge off that intense heat and minimize the need to over-water in that space.

I’ll let you know what happens.

🌼Last Month’s Lesson Learned

I need to get ahead of spring.

April carries a long list of garden tasks, and between annual mountain bike events and hosting, and an uptick in local design work, it becomes too much all at once.

It would be luxurious to have extra spring help in the landscape, but the truth is that I choose to do it all myself.

Lesson Learned: Next year I’m going to shift all the soil prep and composting done in February and March rather than leave it for April. That’s the plan anyway.

About These Checklists

While we don’t offer garden maintenance services here at The Whiskey Porch, these monthly Garden Keeping Checklists are designed to help you stay on track and feel supported through the seasons.

Whether you’re handling everything yourself or working with a maintenance crew, you’ll find the tips practical and flexible - especially if you’re gardening in or around Prescott, Arizona, or in other Zone-7 and neighboring climates anywhere in the world.

Each checklist reflects the rhythm I experience here in Prescott’s downtown microclimate, so your own garden may vary slightly depending on your elevation, location, and what you’re growing. Generally speaking, these notes align with USDA Zone 7b.

Of course, no two years are exactly alike, even in the same zone. Some seasons bring an early hard freeze in late October, while others hold off until December. Keep that in mind as you plan your tasks.

These guides are geared toward landscape gardens that include mostly perennials, with a sprinkling of annuals, veggies and herbs.

To learn more about why I started this Garden Keeping Journal:

Let’s get into it!

Read more

I’m so glad you’re here. Today is National Historic Preservation Day, and I wanted to share my evening strolls through a historic neighborhood in the high-country of northern Arizona.

Almost every evening, my little shadow, Ibis-the-yellow-lab, and I head out for a walkabout.

Often we wander up into the hills and national forest behind our home. But other times we stay on the sidewalks and meander through town. She’s an old girl now at 13, and the sidewalks are a bit easier for her to navigate.

And for me, I simply love noticing the details on the old historic homes in this part of town. And very often, the best part is saying hello to the owners having a little porch sit.

As you may know, our home is a 1924 Craftsman bungalow listed on the National Historic Register. This part of town, in and around the lovely Courthouse Square, is overflowing with homes dating from the mid-19th century through the mid-20th.

Over the past several months, I started photographing these scenes as we walked and began sharing them on my Substack Notes as a small bit of daily inspiration.

So today I thought I’d share a few of these little gems here, since I know most of you don’t see those daily Notes, which are on the Substack app.

These aren’t large houses or grand architecture.

More often, they are small cottages and porches that seem to carry their history and quirks with quiet pride. Some are a bit ragged with age, while others have been lovingly maintained.

None of these homes are particularly large or polished - or impressive by today’s standards. But they have something many newer houses seem to be missing.

They feel welcoming. They seem to have soul.

They sit close to the street. Their porches invite you to pause. Some have plaques proclaiming their age and historic designation. Many do not.

These homes and porches have witnessed so much of the history of our little village. A few still have old hitching posts out front for horses.

But more than anything, it’s the tiny details that make me smile each time I pass by - the workmanship and artful touches that you simply don’t see very often anymore.

When I think about the time, care, and creativity that went into building these homes and porches, I’m always a little in awe. Much of it was done by hand and without the benefit of mass-produced materials. That’s true craftsmanship.

These little cottages are a joy to wander past.

Happy strolling my friends!

With contentment & possibility,

Did you know you can ‘like’ and comment on this letter?

If you’d like to join the conversation, you can follow the link below to read and respond in the Substack app. It’s free and ad-free.

Get more from Miriam🌼Carlson-Maier in the Substack app

Available for iOS and Android

Get the app

P.S. I have so much fun sharing beauty and design with you. As ever, thank you for being here with me.

Hello my dear readers.

Welcome to the porch.

This letter is the fourth and final in a short series exploring smaller living - from the original invitation, to the idea of right-sizing, to the intentional choice itself.

And today, I’ll share the surprising gifts that begin to appear on the other side of that decision.

Before we jump in, a quick reminder:

I opened a special Spring Porch Invitation that ends tonight at midnight, along with a limited release of original glass and wood artwork from the art studio.

The Invite

On the surface, downsizing might feel like loss

Most people approach the idea of downsizing through the language of subtraction:

less house

less storage

fewer rooms

less status

less “proof”

I get it. It can feel like giving up so much. Especially if your identity has been tied to that very American idea of ‘success’ or ‘permanence’.

I recently shared my experience with that process in my post When Success Stops Feeling Like Success. It was tough to walk away from so much - at first.

And the only alternative to the big life I was leading, at the time, was the tiny-house craze. It was cute. And very romantic. But that type of extreme was not any more sustainable than where I already was, in my view.

Then you start to realize what you’ve gained

After settling into a smaller space and making it your own, you begin to see that what you have gained is not less. It’s more. More space of a different kind.

more time

more energy

more financial breathing room

more ease in maintenance

more clarity

more freedom to travel

more capacity for beauty

more presence

less stuff to manage

less work

less space holding unresolved accumulation

more possibility

more connection to the outside

Home becomes a participant, not a project

Don’t get me wrong. Any random old smaller home may not be the answer. It needs to be well designed and function thoughtfully in a way that fits with your life and your needs.

If you can find that, or make the adjustments to achieve that, then the house stops being something you serve. And it begins to serve your life.

We may not have a garage here at Juniper Hill Cottage, a 1924 craftsman bungalow. But we also don’t have a garage that collects boxes, and junk, and miscellaneous stuff we don’t need. We make it work quite easily by other creative solutions, one of which of course is holding onto less stuff.

We may not have guest rooms waiting for occasional guests with large beds, and empty closets. But we are able to convert various spaces on the property to host visiting children and guests - and we also have many nearby historic inns and boutique hotels to put up our guests in if needed. And I don’t have to clean or heat and cool those extra rooms for 90% of the year.

We may not have a formal dining room or even a sit-in kitchen. But what we do have is a gorgeous dining room that functions as an everyday gathering space and is only steps from the kitchen. And we have open and covered porches around the house that function as extended entertaining spaces that connect us to our land and gardens.

This house and property feels lived with, not managed.

Maintenance no longer dominates my weekends.

Every space in this home has access to windows and views and sunlight and fresh air.

This home holds the possibility of aging in place comfortably and that provides a huge sense of contentment and peace. A different kind of permanence. And an easeful future.

Choosing enough is a design decision and an identity shift

Enough is not accidental.

It’s a lifestyle and identity decision that requires intention and honesty. It may require courage. And strength to choose before life chooses for you.

And it requires trusting that beauty, comfort and a life well lived does not depend on large or more spaces.

So, my challenge to you is that instead of asking:

“Should I downsize”?

Maybe the question should really be:

“What would become possible if home asked less of me, and gave more back?”

Or, “What would change if enough become the goal instead of more?”

ICYMI - the first three segments:

With contentment & possibility,

P.S. So friends, tell me what you think? Is living a smaller, simpler, more beautiful life something that you ponder occasionally? Is it just a nice idea but something you resist, or can’t process? Are there specific things that hold you back or a timeline you’re on? Or - have you already made the shift and have good or bad experiences? As ever, I’d love to hear your comments!

Leave a comment

Over the past few weeks, the garden has been slowly waking up.

A bit of movement here, a new bloom there.

And we’ll just forget about that insanely odd hot spell that most of the country had several weeks back - glad that’s over.

As many of you know, we are at 6,000 foot elevation here in northern-Arizona and typically winter still makes appearances up to early May. For now, it’s been gorgeous and I’m jumping into spring.

I’ve gathered some of my recent garden glimpses (shared regularly on Substack Notes) for you to get a peek here in your in-box. I hope you enjoy.

Before our walk-about, a quick reminder:

I opened a special Spring Porch Invitation that runs through next week only. Alond with a limited release of original glass and wood artwork from the art studio.

The Invitation

Early Spring Garden Glimpses at Juniper Hill Cottage

Hellebores enthusiastically taking over the late winter garden.

They begin in February and some varieties will still be blooming in May if they enjoy good shade and moisture.

While most of the garden still sleeps, these little beauties seem perfectly content blooming through the cold - deep burgundy, soft pink, and the most subtle shades in between.

No wonder they’re my winter garden obsession.

Tiny white narcissus tucked into the river rock border on the south side of the cottage- one of those easy-to-miss little spring arrivals that rewards anyone who slows down enough to notice.

(Ibis is photo bombing again.)

And across the walkway, a reclaimed old steel chair keeping watch in the garden -doing what old garden pieces do best: adding a little soul and story.

The pansies are still holding their place, but the sedum is already rising up through the soil and enthusiastically taking over.

Early spring always begins this way - one season making room for the next.

Just look at those faces.

Violas and a Euphorbia… it doesn’t get much sweeter than this on a spring morning.

Tulips, snapdragons dancing in the wild spring breeze, and Nellie supervising—naturally.

Is spring dancing where you are?

The annual late-winter shuffle in the kitchen garden: frost cloth off, shade cloth on. I’ve got the whole transformation for you in under a minute.

The garden always seems to know what season it is - even when I’m still catching up.

Thanks for stopping by the porch for a moment.

And in case you haven’t had a chance to check out the monthly Garden Keeping Journal, here is April’s checklist for you. Beginning in May, these monthly guides will be available to paid subscribers.

With contentment & possibility,

P.S. So how is spring coming along where you’re at? Is it painfully slow? Are you getting more time outside in the garden? I’d love to hear. 👇🏼

Leave a comment

I know, it’s Wednesday.

Typically you’ll find me in your email in-box on Fridays. But today I wanted to pop in (quickly) with this Spring Porch Invitation offer for you which runs through Friday, April 24.

Over the past months this little publication has grown into something I truly enjoy and value - a circle of readers who enjoy celebrating slower, simpler, more beautiful lifestyles.

To mark the spring season, I’ve gathered a small batch of handmade pieces from Baldur Studios (my little art studio) here at Juniper Hill Cottage in Prescott, Arizona to share with the members who help support the publication.

The gifts include small turned wood pieces from my father’s workshop and handmade glass beads crafted at my torch - simple objects made slowly over time. Each one is a little different.

• Annual Porch Companions - receive a small turned wood bowl
• Studio Stewards - receive a bowl and a glass bead

(And if you’re already an annual Porch Companion or Studio Steward, this thank-you includes you as well.)

Whether you choose to join as an Annual Companion or Steward - or simply continue reading from the garden steps - I’m grateful you’re here.

Thank you. Truly.

With contentment & possibility,

P.S. I’ll share a more glimpses of the studio pieces over the next several days in Substack Notes, on the app, if you’d like to see them.

National Gardening Day is next week, on the 14th.

Honestly, for me it’s a daily celebration year-round. Even in the winter, while I might not be out in my garden actively growing things or enjoying the garden, I’m most definitely planning ahead for the coming season and dreaming up new ideas and projects.

Because gardening - even if it’s just a single pot on a windowsill - has a way of reminding us of something deeper: that we are connected to the natural world, and that tending something living changes us in small but meaningful ways.

Whether you have acres to work with, or just a small balcony or bay window and a few pots, the case can easily be made that gardening is good for your mind, body, and soul.

So in honor of National Gardening Day, I put together 10 reasons why gardening is good for you.

Gardening for your Mind

#1 Social Connection

Gardening brings people together and creates community. Share it with your family and neighbors - whether it’s the bounty from what you’ve grown, or the process of creating that space. Social networks are the glue in life.

#2 Stress Management

Just being outside, to be honest, is known to improve your mood and reduce stress. And if you are engaged in doing something creative and fun, it will only motivate you to spend more time outside. Gardening for many is a meditative and centering activity.

#3 Satisfaction

I don’t know anyone who doesn’t feel joy and satisfaction from watching something they planted grow and thrive. Gardening lets you exercise your creative juices.

When you watch your efforts develop and your garden grow, you will build self-esteem and pleasure in a task well done.

But gardening doesn’t just help our mindset - it gets our bodies moving as well.

Gardening for your Body

#4 Fresh Air

If you are fortunate enough to have a private garden space, or even just a small balcony, working on your garden gets you outside. In the fresh air.

Sun, fresh air, and the vitamin D generated by the ultraviolet rays that also feed the plants are good for your well-being.

#5 Exercise

If it’s just a small pot or two on a windowsill, this one may not apply. But virtually any other size garden will have you moving and stretching and possibly even hauling heavy loads of soil and digging holes.

Moving is a good thing and something we should all do more of. And gardening is something you can do your entire life - even when you’re a bit stiff and getting older - with just a few modifications.

#6 Immunity Booster

We’ve probably all heard about the studies that show that early exposure to the land and gardening creates a healthier immune system. Exposure to dirt and microbes is said to reduce allergies and risks for autoimmune disorders.

So get in there and get dirty.

#7 Freshness and Flavor

If you choose to garden with culinary herbs or fruits and vegetables, you won’t believe what you’ve been missing at the grocery store.

How many times have we all heard that a fresh tomato still warm from the sun isn’t even remotely like the ones you can buy at the store?

Plus it’s budget-friendly if you grow your food from seed.

Beyond the practical benefits, gardens nourish something a little deeper as well.

Gardening for your Soul

#8 Wildlife

Gardens bring wildlife for the food and shelter that your space offers.

When you start to attract wildlife, you ultimately create a boost to the local ecosystem and can even improve the microclimate of your little corner of the world.

It’s a joy to watch birds and butterflies flourish in your garden (assuming they don’t eat your strawberries!).

#9 Environment

If you choose to garden organically, and if you are adding trees and native water-wise plants to your space, you are improving the balance in your little ecosystem and helping the larger environment.

#10 Beauty

Gardens and nature are aesthetically pleasing, and often gardens can truly be a work of art.

I often say that there is pure joy in beautiful surroundings. Create your own garden in a way that you find charming and appealing and spend time there every day just observing it - just because it’s pretty.

Thanks so much for following along.

I hope you found a little motivation in one or two of these ideas. Even if you’re not new to gardening, maybe this will remind you why you fell in love with it when you first started.

Personally, I find gardening to be my truest solace. That, along with working at my glass torch in the art studio here at Juniper Hill Cottage.

With contentment & possibility,

P.S. What’s growing in your corner of the world right now? Garden beds, balcony pots, or even just a hopeful windowsill - I’d love to hear.

Leave a comment

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Spring in the high-country can be a wild ride, can't it?

One day you're soaking up the sunshine, convinced spring is finally here, and the next morning - surprise! - two inches of snow and a biting, cold wind greet you. That's springtime in Prescott!

My biggest advice this month is similar to March: resist the urge to plant your tender annuals and young perennials too soon. Even though the warm days might tempt you, remember our last frost date around Prescott usually falls around Mother’s Day. Patience is key to gardening success here!
​
Last year this time, I was convincing myself that I should go ahead and get my Dahlia tubers in the ground because it was so nice. Then reason set in and I decided to wait just a tiny bit longer. But this year (this fall to be exact) I decided to try a different approach. Rather than lift the tubers and store them until spring, I left them in place, tucked in under layers of garden felt and a heavy tarp to keep warm and avoid rotting.

It’s an experiment that might be a real time saver if it succeeds. And if not, a worthwhile effort.

April's to-do list is a bit lighter than March's - assuming you tackled everything last month, of course! And if you didn’t, just keep moving forward and do what you can.

April at Juniper Hill Cottage

A few behind-the-scenes notes from the garden as spring begins to stretch its legs.

🌼What I’m Planting

• Myosotis (forget-me-not) - ‘Victoria blue’, ‘Victoria pink’, and ‘Spring & Summer’*

• Delphinium belladonna ‘Casablanca’*

• Antirrhinum majus (snapdragon) - ‘Chantilly Light Salmon’, ‘Maryland Apple Blossom’*

*seedlings from seeds I started in the fall

🌼What’s Blooming

• Hellebores - so many varieties showing off

• Tulipa (tulips) - ‘Apricot Symbiose’, ‘Salmon Prince’, ‘Black Hero’

🌼My Biggest Challenge

Managing shade and water. We’ve had such a bizarre hot spell recently that I struggled with using frost fabric to try to shade my beds with young plants rather bringing out the shade cloth already. And have done a ton of hand watering rather than turn on my drip system. Neither of which would normally happen until mid-April.

🌼Last Month’s Lesson Learned

I put out a few cool season seedlings - quite small - that normally do quite well this time of year, but I neglected to put out deterrents for the pill bugs (aka, roly-polies). Did you know that they can devour young seedlings in a single evening? Yep. Next day I ordered 3 jugs of Sluggo-Plus! Better late than never.

Lesson Learned: before planting very young seedlings, check your soil to see if you have pill bugs in large numbers lurking.

About These Checklists

While we don’t offer garden maintenance services here at The Whiskey Porch, these monthly Garden Keeping Checklists are designed to help you stay on track and feel supported through the seasons.

Whether you’re handling everything yourself or working with a maintenance crew, you’ll find the tips practical and flexible - especially if you’re gardening in or around Prescott, Arizona, or in other Zone-7 and neighboring climates anywhere in the world.

Each checklist reflects the rhythm I experience here in Prescott’s downtown microclimate, so your own garden may vary slightly depending on your elevation, location, and what you’re growing. Generally speaking, these notes align with USDA Zone 7b.

Of course, no two years are exactly alike, even in the same zone. Some seasons bring an early hard freeze in late October, while others hold off until December. Keep that in mind as you plan your tasks.

These guides are geared toward landscape gardens that include mostly perennials, with a sprinkling of annuals, veggies and herbs.

Let’s get to it!

Read more

In today’s Porch Journal I’ve got a few behind-the-scenes glimpses from life here at Juniper Hill Cottage - a 1924 craftsman bungalow located in the high-country of Northern Arizona. It’s a small house - where life is well-lived.

Lately I’ve been sharing what I call Cottage Glimpses, over on my Substack daily notes.

They’re not grand design moments or perfectly styled rooms. Just corners of daily life in an old house.

Our front door wearing a brass dragonfly knocker.

Apparently I’m leaving the eucalyptus holiday wreath up until the scent gives out. A lovely gift from my beautiful Mama.

And this original 1924 window on the porch - the craftmanship and detail give me joy every day. (We just finished renovating the window last week - which was in pretty rough shape, and I couldn’t be more thrilled with the result.)

The evenings are warming now, so we are easing into our daily evening porch sittin’ ritual. Best way to end the day EVER.

It’s the little things ✨

A little corner of the garden room in the soft morning light.
A straw garden hat hanging beside a well-used apron.
A ristra of dried chiles by the window.

Ordinary things, really.

And no, this isn’t staged for this image!

But somehow those are often the very things that make a home feel warm, lived-in, and beautiful.

A Cottage Glimpse - Before & After

Another corner of the garden room at Juniper Hill Cottage - this one my little office (aka writing desk).

Here’s a progression, to show how it evolved over the years - beginning in 2010 (when it was 87 years old) through to today, when it’s become my lovely writing and work space in this beautiful, historic 1924 cottage.

My desk now is essentially sitting where that grill lived on the porch.

That’s my office, and where I write - just a corner, but it couldn’t be more perfect.

Some evenings the cottage seems to glow from within.

The moon hanging low over the neighborhood. The old alligator junipers standing guard, heavy with berries that will later fall in great messy waves across the property.

But for now… they simply frame the house, making me feel rooted and tucked in.

I’m curious - do you have a favorite little corner at home? I’d love to hear.

Thank you for spending a little porch time with me today!

With contentment & possibility,

P.S. 👉🏼 I’ll be sharing something a little special here next Wednesday - a small spring campaign and a handful of original artworks from the studio. More soon…

Did you know you can ‘like’ and comment on this letter?

If you’d like to join the conversation, you can follow the link below to read and respond in the Substack app. It’s free and ad-free.

Get more from Miriam🌼Carlson-Maier in the Substack app

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Today I wanted to share a little more of the story behind The Whiskey Porch - how I arrived here, and why this work matters so much to me.

And it begins with a simple question:

These are questions I glossed over for a really long time.

Because from the outside, my life looked full - busy, exciting, and by most standards, extremely successful. But somewhere along the way, I found myself on the wrong side of that equation.

It was a wake-up call I didn’t see coming - but one I’m deeply grateful for, because it came early enough that I still had time to choose differently.

What followed were some of the hardest decisions I’ve made. Bold shifts. Letting go of a lifestyle that looked right on paper, but didn’t feel like me. Learning to trust something deeper than logic.

I don’t share this story often.

But it’s at the root of who I am now - and why I do the work I do here at The Whiskey Porch.

I spent decades working in fast-moving, high-performance environments.

Leadership roles first in Silicon Valley, where the pace never really let up. Start-ups, the dot-com boom. And then the bust. Everything was measured, driven, and constantly in motion.

In the middle of that, my personal life took a sharp turn.

I made the decision to leave my first marriage with very young kids and start over - something that required more risk, resilience, and courage than I can easily put into words.

Over time, I rebuilt - a new life in Arizona. A career with the NFL in strategic planning. A beautiful, spacious home in Phoenix that checked all the boxes. From the outside, it looked like I had found my footing again - strong, stable, successful.

But underneath it, something still didn’t sit right.

The life I had built worked. The kids and I were thriving. It looked the part. But it didn’t feel like home anymore.

Being a woman in a leadership role in the high-stakes, big-ego world of the National Football League was, by most measures, an accomplishment. It wasn’t a path I had set out to pursue - and to be honest, I wasn’t even a professional sports fan.

As a finance executive, my work spanned everything from player salary cap strategy to ticket pricing, and even navigating a league-wide player lockout. The stakes were real - lots of zeros and commas. And the pressure was intense and constant. Did I mention the politics?

At home, life as a single mom with my young twins was full and happy - they were my world. I had no regrets.

But over time, it became clear that my professional work itself wasn’t meaningful to me - not in the way life should be. The politics, the posturing, the scale of it all - it was real. And so was the stress, the pressure, the intensity I felt in my bones.

I found myself craving something entirely different. Fresh, cool air. Time with my hands in the dirt. Big trees for shade. A life that felt rooted - connected to place and to people. A place where I wasn’t defined by my career, or moving through the world mostly anonymous.

My now-husband and I began spending more time exploring the mountains and small towns of northern Arizona.

With some hesitation we started talking about what it might look like to step away from the pace and scale of city life and corporate careers.

That’s where something shifted. It was the first glimpse of what home could feel like.

At first, these occasional day trips north into the mountains of Arizona, were an escape - just to breathe the cooler air and spend a day among the ponderosa pines.

Prescott drew us in: historic streets, tales of Wyatt Earp and the wild west, old cottages, and a slower rhythm that felt worlds away from the pace of the city. What started as a simple getaway slowly became something more.

Then one weekend, almost on a whim, we walked through a small, overgrown and decidedly neglected 1924 Craftsman bungalow tucked beneath the old alligator junipers.

It was in pretty bad shape, but something about it felt right - many things, in fact.

The next day we made an offer - less out of careful planning and more out of a heartfelt instinct we couldn’t quite explain.

Looking back now, 16 years later, that little bungalow was the first real step toward the life we were searching for.

(If you’re curious, I shared the full story here - We Accidentally Bought a Bungalow.)

At first, the idea felt almost whimsical - that we could truly shift our lives. Downsize. Simplify. Step away from the pace and scale of the big city and corporate careers without disconnecting from the world.

What I know now is that it’s not a dream at all.

It’s a decision. A series of very real choices made over time, with intention. And when those choices align with what matters most, the result is a life that works elegantly. And comfortably.

Living this way has reshaped how I see home, design, and the rhythm of everyday life.

🌼

A house isn’t truly a home without a garden. Home and garden are not separate spaces - they’re part of the same living space, shaping how we move through each day.

🌼

Beauty isn’t found in trends or rare, exciting moments. It lives in the everyday. Beauty is a necessary part of a meaningful life, and worth creating and seeking out.

🌼

Smaller does not mean less. Thoughtfully designed small-not-tiny spaces are often more functional and enjoyable than the square-footage-impressive houses we used to think we needed.

🌼

And slower living isn’t about withdrawing or a boring lifestyle. It’s about engaging with it more fully. Doing more of what you’re most passionate about. Not doingless. A more intentional pace brings depth and meaning to the ordinary days that ultimately make up most of life.

I’ve been shaping spaces for as long as I can remember.

My younger brother used to joke that I was born with graph paper and a drafting table in my mind.

It’s a little ironic that I spent much of my career designing systems and strategic financial plans, because in every spare moment I was working with spaces instead - inside and out. Remodeling homes, planning gardens, sketching ideas, imagining how a place could feel better to live in.

By the time I officially started The Whiskey Porch in 2019, I had been a designer, artist, and creator for most of my life. But that was the moment I chose to turn those instincts into a business - to help others create spaces that reflect how they truly want to live.

Writing came naturally alongside the design work.

What began on my website blog eventually led me here to Substack, where the conversation could grow into something more like a community. Because over time I’ve realized that what I do isn’t just about designing spaces - it’s about a way of seeing the world.

Home, garden, beauty, and everyday living are all deeply connected.

Helping others create spaces that feel personal, functional, and full of life is one of the great privileges of my work. It’s a gift to spend my days bringing a little more beauty into the world - and into the lives of the people I work with.

I just turned 60 a few weeks ago. I’ve learned so much, and come so far.

Life’s never been better. And the future never more exciting.

When I look back now, the definition of success that once seemed so clear has changed completely.

For me, a life well-lived isn’t measured by titles, seniority, salary, pace, or scale anymore. It’s measured in simpler ways - in the feeling of being rooted in a place that truly feels like home, in meaningful work, and in beauty woven into the everyday.

I suspect the answers are very different for each of us.

But asking the question may be the most important step of all.

Thank you, for being here and being part of this journey.

With contentment & possibility,

P.S. I’d love to hear your answer to the questions in this letter☝🏼. You’re welcome to share in the comments if you feel like chatting.

Leave a comment

Happy Spring! It’s the Spring Equinox, also known as the Vernal Equinox. That beautiful time of year when day and night are nearly equal, gently shifting us toward brighter, warmer days.

Importantly, also, it’s my granddaughter’s 5th birthday today.

Happy birthday sweet Nora Rose. 🎁

For me, the Spring Equinox symbolizes fresh starts and the true joy of observing nature awakening around us. This feels like New Year to me much more than January 1st does.

It’s the ideal moment to pause, reflect, and thoughtfully welcome the new season into our homes and gardens.

If you’re new here, welcome.

Letters from the Porch is where I share seasonal reflections, garden notes, and simple ways to live a little smaller, simpler, and more beautifully. Coming to you from the high country of northern Arizona.

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I’ve got seven beautifully simple ideas for celebrating the turn of the season.

​1. Sunrise tea

Begin the day slowly with a warm cup of herbal tea at sunrise. On warmer mornings I’ll step into the garden and gather a few leaves of mint, chamomile, or lemon balm to steep in hot water.

Right now the garden is only just waking up here in Prescott, Arizona, so I’ll probably reach for some herbs I dried from last season.

​2. Garden wake-up

Step outside and give the garden a gentle wake-up. A little tidying, a handful of wildflower seeds, or clearing winter debris is often all it takes to start the season moving again.

​For more helpful garden tips, explore my Garden Keeping Journals.

​3. Bring the outdoors in

Open the windows and let the fresh air move through the house. A small arrangement of daffodils or budding branches on the table makes the whole room feel like spring.

I’ve got daffodils just starting and the hellebores are still doing their thing — a small bouquet in an antique vase on my desk is a real treat.

4. Outdoor seating refresh

Swap in fresh cushion covers or bring out your favorite outdoor blankets. Small touches make porches and patios feel welcoming again after winter.

​5. Equinox porch gathering

Invite friends or neighbors for an easy-going gathering on your porch or patio. Lanterns, cozy blankets, and seasonal treats set a welcoming scene and highlight the joy of simple outdoor living. Later in the season we do this daily, and right around sunset. But today maybe it’s a late afternoon gathering instead to capture the warmth.

​6. Cook

Prepare meals that highlight fresh spring ingredients like asparagus, leafy greens, and garden herbs. Enjoying these dishes outdoors makes the most of the longer, warmer evenings.

Last night I made a big pot of Pozole Rojo. It took nearly five hours, but I love the slow rhythm of cooking like that.

The best part is that it’s always even better the next day - which makes tonight’s Equinox dinner easy.

7. Get creative

Spend a few minutes sketching or watercoloring the scenes around you. Artistic skill isn’t necessary - just appreciation for nature and the gentle rhythm of the season.

A nice quality journal or sketchbook is always a fun way to make this even more special.

I keep meaning to learn how to draw botanical pencil illustrations… one of these days.

My plan for this equinox weekend is to spend time with some dear friends who are coming up the mountain for a few days, and also to sow some Columbine ‘Black Barlow’ seeds in my patio shade border.

Celebrating the Spring Equinox is about savoring the seasonal cycles of this earth and reconnecting with the natural rhythms of the season.

However you choose to mark the day, I hope you are noticing the returning light. I’d love to hear what your plans are and how spring is showing up where you’re at.

​Wishing you a beautiful and inspired start to spring!

With contentment & possibility,

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Hello my lovely readers.

Welcome to the porch.

This letter is the third in a short series exploring smaller living - from the original invitation, to the idea of right-sizing, to the intentional choice itself. In the final piece next month, I’ll share the surprising gifts that begin to appear on the other side of that decision.

Most people don’t choose smaller living until they have to.

The decision arrives through necessity (sometimes with a bit of kicking and screaming) - aging, loss, finances, changing bodies, changing energy. And by then, the choice can feel reactive rather than intentional.

And difficult. And exhausting.

But what happens when that decision is made earlier? Not as an escape, and not as an ideology - just as a thoughtful, long-range choice about how you want to live?

I’ve come to believe that choosing earlier changes everything.

It allows scale, comfort, beauty, and adaptability to be considered together. It turns downsizing from something endured into something shaped.

In a smaller, more intentional home, details matter more. Light. Storage. Circulation. How rooms connect to one another and to the garden beyond. Hospitality becomes flexible rather than formal. Beauty stops being decorative and starts becoming essential and fully integrated into your space.

There’s no single right answer to how much space is enough.

But there is something powerful about asking the question before urgency forces it.

When smaller living is forced, or never happens, it can be a harsh ending.

I see it happening over and over - in this anguished, resistant struggle. Older folks who have lived a large life, in a large home, raised kids and pets and gardens. Where their homes just continue to accumulate the stuff of life in dusty corners and forgotten boxes crammed into corners.

And then suddenly, after years of resisting the downshift, these folks are forced to make an urgent decision (or even more often rely on their adult children to make the choice) of where to go at a moment’s notice because their finances or health just no longer support the maintenance and upkeep of their home.

My father was one of these who chose to hang on to his large and beautiful home - partly because he was in denial that he could handle it all and arrange things for his passing as he suffered with a terminal illness. And partly because he at that point was just too overwhelmed to think through a decision like that - understandably. We ended up rescuing him on death’s door (literally kicking and screaming) and getting him setup in hospice care for one last week of life with some dignity. He thanked me.

The ensuing 18-month process of getting his belongings and property sorted, dispersed, and managed was painful, overwhelming and complicated.

It didn’t have to be like that. It broke my heart into a thousand pieces.

Choosing earlier changes the design equation

Stories like that have altered the way I think about our homes and the choices we make about them.

There’s so much more grace in making that decision to let go of the stuff and the space MUCH earlier in life.

Granted there’s that period in life where literally everything expands - with children, comes the need for more space and the things of life to support them as they grow and learn.

But there’s a definite moment where the last kiddo has flown the nest (or been gently pushed out). As it should be. They are out in the world building their own path and popping in only occasionally to be “at home” with you and their larger family.

I can promise that they do not need their childhood room and en-suite bathroom to feel welcome and “at home”.

There’s that moment when you have a full life still ahead of you, and no longer need those trappings of the square footage and massive storage spaces and extra bedrooms.

The opportunity to make a thoughtful plan, to align your home space with how you truly live now, becomes a planning advantage.

You can imagine an elegant solution that allows you to live life to the fullest and ALSO to age gracefully in a flexible and adaptable situation. And make that shift in a thoughtful and easeful way.

Your priority can be your lifestyle rather than maintaining what you currently have.

Smaller spaces demand better design

Smaller homes are often perceived as less desirable - because so often the design is non-existent. But thoughtful edits and adjustments can completely shift that reality.

It does require imagination, thoughtful design, and effort. It can take time. Whether you are remodeling an older smaller home, or building one. Even new builds are often a bit soul-less. At first.

In my professional design work, I can spend weeks working closely with homeowners to address the finer points of layered and intentional lighting, integrated and effective storage, the circulation and flow of the spaces and the interior connection to the outdoor spaces.

The color plan and the quality of the finishes can be uplifted to bring warmth, and space, and elegance.

Gardens, porches, and patios expand your living spaces and should be fully incorporated into the larger plan.

The most insightful design moments happen when someone visits our cottage and is thrilled with the spacious feeling and thoughtful design - only to be shocked and amazed to find out how small it really is. Those reactions are proof that a well designed space can function not only for our personal needs and activities but even for entertaining and large gatherings.

The freedom in smaller living

Smaller living isn’t about deprivation. It’s about alignment.

I’ve written much more extensively about these advantages, but I wanted to include a short discussion on the many advantages.

First and foremost is the expanded time and energy for doing what truly matters most to you. That freedom of how to spend your time, and your resources, is the prize that is well worth the effort to downsize as soon as possible.

Lest I neglect to mention the obvious - a smaller home requires less maintenance, less resources to heat and cool, less effort and time to clean.

A smaller home virtually always offers significant financial breathing room.

Hospitality becomes less about impressing and more about connecting and sharing.

And, of course, there’s less space to store the stuff that burdens your closets and attics while living in mysterious, dusty boxes. It’s stuff - you can’t take it with you….

Agency rather than inertia

I think part of the inertia that many of us feel when we have an established home, that we’re used to, and reasonably comfortable in, is that we can’t imagine what it would feel like to start again.

Maybe you’re in your forties or fifties when it’s just you and your partner - the kids are off in the world. Or you’re in your thirties and not planning to have kids.

Don’t focus on what’s challenging about that shift. Instead, focus on what would be exciting and amazing and freeing.

What might shift - in your home, your time, or your sense of freedom - if you chose more deliberately, sooner rather than later?

ICYMI - the first two segments:

And, finally, next month I’ll be sharing The Gift of Downsizing - I hope you’ll join me for that final segment.

With contentment & possibility,

P.S. As ever, I truly love to hear your thoughts and comments and get a conversation going. Please drop a note in the comments and let’s connect.

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Winter will still be visiting here and there for the next couple of months. Nights are still at or below freezing often, and our last frost date is usually around Mothers Day in May.

We will have those warm t-shirt days and front porch happy hour evenings. But don’t jump the gun and start putting out tender plants until May - if you can stand it!

But March is here and we've got some serious checklists to start tackling!

I realize that this is getting to be a long one, but some of what I've got listed is just a reminder from last month (to wrap it up). And everything you do now will pay off as the season progresses.

I’ve just wrapped up my autumn garden clean-up - last weekend actually. And that’s how I like to tackle it. I set aside time in February to pick away at it, and it’s a workout that benefits not only my health, but also the prep for spring in the garden before things get too crazy.

The other reason I wait, is because I like to leave the garden as it is for the bulk of the winter to offer food and shelter to birds and other critters, as well as the added cover for the roots of herbaceous plants in case of deep freezes or strong winter winds.

I’m currently waiting for my first deliveries of spring seed packets as well as a few hard-to find plants. I’m excited!

About These Checklists

While we don’t offer garden maintenance services here at The Whiskey Porch, these monthly Garden Keeping Checklists are designed to help you stay on track and feel supported through the seasons.

Whether you’re handling everything yourself or working with a maintenance crew, you’ll find the tips practical and flexible - especially if you’re gardening in or around Prescott, Arizona, or in other Zone-7 and neighboring climates.

Each checklist reflects the rhythm I experience here in Prescott’s downtown microclimate, so your own garden may vary slightly depending on your elevation, location, and what you’re growing. Generally speaking, these notes align with USDA Zone 7b.

Of course, no two years are exactly alike, even in the same zone. Some seasons bring an early hard freeze in late October, while others hold off until December. Keep that in mind as you plan your tasks.

These guides are geared toward landscape gardens that include mostly perennials, with a sprinkling of annuals, veggies and herbs.

​Let’s get started, shall we?

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In Sweden, we have a few lifestyle concepts that may be part of the reason Swedes are often considered among the happiest people in the world.

I wanted to share an introduction to one of them: lagom, which translates to “just enough.”

But culturally, lagom goes deeper than that. It’s about living in moderation. Finding balance - in life, at work, in your finances, and even the size of your home.

It’s about thinking of the whole, not just the self.

To be fair, this idea can be, ironically, overdone. This isn’t about balancing a math equation.

At its core, lagom offers something almost radical in a culture that constantly urges us toward more, bigger, better. It invites us to resist extremes. To embrace contentment.

How to Lagom:

Apply it to everything, or only to the bits that feel out of balance.

Consider where you might find that sweet spot - where your choices feel peaceful and steady, without tipping too far in either direction.

You might decide to truly enjoy a luxurious meal or special treat, without guilt, as long as it doesn’t throw your health and well-being off course.

Do it.

And when you do, enjoy it fully. Just maybe not every single day.

Or consider living in a home that’s smaller than most, but big enough for you.

Everyone’s lagom will be different, and very personal. And that can be liberating beyond measure.

I didn’t always recognize how deeply this way of thinking shaped me. Swedish is my first language. My mother came to the U.S. in the 1950s, and although I was born here, we spent my early childhood in Sweden - and every summer there after that.

It wasn’t until I began raising my twins that I fully understood the calm and contentment lagom gave me.

And it wasn’t until I began writing, years later, that I learned how to articulate it.

I’d love to know - have you ever heard of lagom? What do you think about the idea of moderation in your own life?

With contentment & possibility,

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P.S. As ever, thank you for being here. Truly.