Your next field trip starts here.

October and I have always had a thing. It's probably my favorite month of the year, and not just because my birthday lands in it. Give me cool mornings, sunny afternoons without the humidity, changing leaves, and squirrels tearing around the yard like they've been assigned an impossible acorn quota. I'm happy.

This batch of stories started in wildly different places: fake spiderwebs, a pile of camping clothes, an absurdly good cinnamon roll, a printable for bored kids, and some uncomfortable questions about what we call conservation. And somehow they all landed in roughly the same place. Pay attention. Ask more questions.

The world has been pretty heavy around the Field Trip campfire lately. Many of us are carrying hard things: difficult diagnoses for loved ones, sudden deaths of friends, financial hardships, relationships needing extra care, threats of wildfires and data centers in our communities, and the death of a pet.

Pull up a camp chair. Let’s chat.

Pull up a camp chair. Let’s chat.

Why a certain John Muir quote has been knocking around in my brain extra hard lately: “The world is big, and I want to have a good look at it before it gets dark.”

If you’ve been wondering why the February Trail Mix landed on March 1… well. Pull up a camp chair. It’s been a month. But before we get into all that, let’s start where I always do.

If November had a soundtrack, mine would be a quiet loop of small thank-yous, soft tail wags, and the shuffle of someone else making the coffee first. (Thanks, babe.)

Turns out, the scariest thing I did this spooky season wasn’t a haunted house or horror movie marathon — it was opening the door to the wild and watching two tiny sweethearts run straight into it.

This week marks my 49th birthday and Field Trip’s first birthday! (No coincidence there: I launched Field Trip on October 3, my own big day.) Starting Field Trip felt a little like having a baby — so much learning, some sleepless nights, and leaning hard on my village. It’s been a wild and wonderful first year. I’m so grateful for everyone who’s come along for the ride. And I can’t wait to see what year two brings.

Campfire Chat is the spot where I share what’s been on my mind, in my ears, and out in the world lately. Think of it like pulling up a camp chair and swapping stories — sometimes silly, sometimes serious, always connected to the outdoorsy threads that tie us together.

I’ve spent the last 15 years writing about the outdoors and conservation, often with muddy boots, dirt under my nails, and too many bug bites to count. I’m a certified Bee-Friendly Gardener, a Pollinator Steward, and a volunteer with those who care about conservation, wildlife, and treading lightly. I’m also a DarkSky Advocate and a proud member of the SC Native Plant Society, The 89 Percent Project, and 1% for the Planet. I volunteer with Wildlife Rehabilitation Group of Sou

Some packs are light, a comfortable weight you can carry for miles without thinking about it. Others feel fine at first… until the trail turns steep and rocky, and suddenly every step is a reminder that you’re carrying more than you realized.

We’re knee-deep in the Dog Days of summer, and while yes, it’s hotter than the black leather seat of a car in July, I’m leaning in — or at least trying. There’s been yoga. Some surprisingly emotional bird watching. A dog or two gently judging me for being on email too much. And a lovely new pendant reminding me (literally and figuratively) to get grounded.

Take a peek inside the Field Trip tent and into our brains for what's on our minds this week.

A rare quiet house, a craving for the outdoors, and the best mosquito hack I’ve found yet. Campfire Chat is back with bugs, books, and a plea to slow down.

What writing a poem taught me about control, climate grief, and sticking with the hard stuff.

The garden, the clay, and a tiny patch of pollinator chaos — how we grow says a lot about how we live.

Welcome to Campfire Chat—a cozy corner where I share what’s on my mind, what’s growing in my backyard, and maybe even inspire a new habit or book recommendation. Here’s what’s been brewing in the tent lately.

I was raised by a single mom who was into saving the planet long before it was cool. I was born in 1976—Earth Day was barely six years old, and the Resource Conservation and Recovery Act had just passed. In later years, my sister and I stacked newspapers for recycling, drank water from natural springs instead of buying bottled water, and thrifted before “vintage” was a vibe. My mom taught us all that. My clothes came with stories—and so did my worldview.