Dear Kindred Spirit, Welcome to the very first Hearth Letter. Truthfully, it feels a little surreal to be writing those words. For a long time, Hearth & Hollow existed as a collection of ideas. A dream. A notebook filled with plans. A growing folder of recipes, photographs, workshops, and "someday soon" conversations. While many spend months preparing behind closed doors before a grand opening, Hearth & Hollow will be built in plain sight; every recipe tested and every projec

Proof that the universe knows what you need. An upstairs neighbor was getting rid of a chair and offered it to me, knowing about my habit of late-night dumpster diving. The chair had clearly been loved, but years of use—and what appeared to be yet another dedicated campaign of destruction by a cat—had taken their toll. I thought about it for a few days before politely declining. I didn't have room for another project, and I wasn't sure who I would sell it to once it was finis

When a coworker was preparing to move, she offered me a chair she couldn't bear to throw away but couldn't justify keeping. What followed was one of my favorite furniture transformations—and a reminder that some things deserve a second chance.

Dreams rarely arrive in a straight line. This is the story of how a conversation about the Arctic, a rabbit hole of research, and a longing for small-town life led me to Galena, Illinois.