About The Manifestory
Who I Am
I'm a landscape architect by training – which means I've learned to think in systems, patterns, and relationships. How water moves through land. How plants shape microclimates. How a single intervention can ripple through an ecosystem in ways you don't always see immediately.
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My formal education is in landscape architecture, geography, and urban design. All of which focus on ecology, on how environments shape experience, on reading the language of place.
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Over time, that training braided with other practices: creative work, storytelling, seasonal and ritual studies, dream teacher training, and eventually, flower essence development. The through-line has always been the same – paying attention to systems, to cycles, to what's present but not always obvious.
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The Manifestory is where all of that converged. It's a flower essence practice, yes. But it's also a way of working with people as living landscapes – each with their own seasons, weather patterns, and rhythms of change.
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How I Work
I approach flower essences through an ecological lens.
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I'm interested in patterns, not just symptoms. In how things relate to each other, not just the individual parts. In cycles and timing – when something is ready to shift, when it needs to rest, when it's asking for support.
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The essences themselves come from plants growing in the Thousand Islands bioregion along the northeastern shore of Lake Ontario. Native species, garden flowers, wayside weeds, invasive plants, trees. They're rooted in this specific place, this flyway, this ecosystem where the Great Lakes begin their journey to the sea.
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I work seasonally. I pay attention to what the land is offering, what's blooming, what's asking to be made into medicine. The system of 90 essences organized into six families – Love, Power, Wisdom, Roots, Renewal, Re-Sourcing – emerged over two years of deep meditation and connection during the pandemic. The flowers kept saying "pick me too!" until the system was complete.
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I also work intuitively. The oracle readings, the seasonal attunements, the thematic combinations – all of it comes from listening. To the plants, to the patterns I'm noticing, to what I see moving through the collective field.
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Why Flower Essences?
Flower essences work on the subtle body – the mental, emotional, and spiritual layers where patterns live before they show up in behavior or physical experience.
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They don't force change. They don't override your system. They make space. They help you reset habitual responses – the ones formed in overwhelm, in survival mode, in chronic stress – so you can show up more like yourself.
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What I love about essences is how gentle they are. How they meet people where they are without asking them to become someone else. How they work with your system, not on it.
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They're especially supportive for sensitive, creative, and intuitive people—people who feel things deeply, who notice the subtle shifts, who are navigating transitions or thresholds or just... a lot.
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The Nerdy-Magical Part
Here's what happens when you combine systems thinking with plant magic:
You start seeing emotional patterns the way you'd read a watershed. You notice how one stuck place creates downstream effects. You understand that supporting one small shift can reorganize an entire system.
​You also start trusting plant intelligence in a way that's both mystical and completely practical. The flowers know things. They respond to conditions. They communicate with each other and with us in ways we're only just beginning to conceptualize. They have their own timing and wisdom. ​
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The Manifestory lives in that intersection – where rigorous observation meets intuitive knowing. Where I can nerd out about ecological relationships and trust that a flower jumped into my hands for a reason.
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That's the work. That's the offering. That's the invitation.
Join us!
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How This Started
On the day my grandmother died, I wandered through my favorite bookstore with my spirit open to whatever I needed. I was looking for direction, for her guiding light. I left with a book about dreaming and my first flower essence: Bach's Star of Bethlehem.
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I didn't read the label before I chose it. It just... jumped into my hands.​
Later, I learned it's used for shock, trauma, grief – the emotional aftershocks of loss.
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About a year after that, I met a local flower essence maker who created personalized combinations for me over several years. I collaborated with her as an artist and designer. I learned by watching, by using the essences, by paying attention to what shifted. I experienced how flower essences can make space for us to breathe, to reconnect, to ground, and to be our most powerfully intuitive selves.
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Fast forward a decade. Early pandemic. The world had contracted into hyperlocal, solitary experience. I started noticing – really noticing – the garden flowers, the wayside weeds, the buds on trees. The messages on the breeze, birdsong, the frolicking of foxes. I thought I'd make two or three essences. Maybe ten.
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But the flowers had other ideas.
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With each essence I made, more flowers grabbed my attention: "Me too! Pick me too!" Within the first year, I'd created 45 essences across three families: Love, Power, and Wisdom.
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But the trees weren't done with me yet. They wanted to be essences too, but I had to wait for spring. So in 2021, another 45 essences were born – the Roots, Renewal, and Re-Sourcing families. Some were made here. Some I've created while travelling, in places I've lived, with plants I have medicine connections with. A handful are still nascent, waiting for the right moment.
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This system wanted to exist. So I created it.
I hope it will serve you and your growth, ascension, healing.
And support your transformation into your highest expression.
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Land & Lineage
The flower essences at The Manifestory are made from plants – native, introduced, and invasive – growing on the traditional lands of the Wendake-Nionwentsïo (Huron-Wendat), Mississauga (Anishnaabeg), and Haudenosaunee (Kanien'kehá:ka) peoples, along the northeast shore of Lake Ontario and the banks of the St. Lawrence and Ottawa Rivers, in so-called Canada.
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My ancestors were white settler peoples who arrived on Turtle Island between the 1620s and 1900s. I recognize the harm they caused, knowingly or unknowingly, by settling on lands not their own.
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The lands I live and work on are not my ancestors' traditional lands. I don't have legal claim or pathway to rematriate to the lands they came from. This doesn't resolve neatly. I hold this complexity as part of the context in which this work is made, with awareness, intention, and acknowledgement.
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