The Spotted Frog

Apparently, not everything from last Halloween crossed over. 👻

We found a few stragglers from last year’s collection haunting the storage unit, and frankly, we’d like them to become someone else’s problem.

🧹 Broom | Reg. $29.99 → $15
👻 XL Ghost | Reg. $39.99 → $20
👻 Small Ghost | Reg. $27.99 → $14

Very limited quantities because these are the last ones left. Once they disappear, they’re gone for good.

Shop Online and kindly help us exorcise the storage unit. 🕷️

As a textbook Leo, summer was always my season.

So, through the humbling plot twist of perimenopause, Fall and I have trauma bonded and grown unexpectedly close. Beyond the cooler air and the relief of no longer spontaneously combusting, I have come to love what this season represents.

Fall feels like Mother Nature’s quiet lesson in surrender.

She whispers to the trees that it is safe to let go of everything they worked so hard to grow. That releasing something does not diminish the beauty of what was created. That decay is not the end of the story, but the beginning of rich, fertile ground for something new.

There is wisdom in that.

We suffer when we hold too tightly to seasons, identities and dreams that have already given us everything they came to teach. We convince ourselves that letting go means losing, because there is a vulnerable part of us that is terrified that nothing as beautiful will ever find us again.

But the trees do not negotiate fear with Fall.

They release with extraordinary grace, fully trusting that what appears empty is simply making room. They honour the work of summer by allowing themselves to rest.

I have learned to give myself permission to do the same.

To celebrate what we have diligently nurtured without immediately demanding another harvest. To move at a slower pace. To welcome the longer nights, where darkness asks nothing of us except to become still enough to listen to the softer more heart-centered parts of the landscape.
Because beneath the surface, life is still becoming.

Roots are deepening. The soil is being restored. Something unseen is quietly gathering the strength it will need to rise higher when its season returns.

Fall reminds us that letting go is an act of faith.

Faith that the magic has not passed us by. Faith that rest has purpose. Faith that even in the darker seasons, something beautiful is preparing to unfold.

Project: Champagne (Phase 2)
Designer: Huong Nguyen
Photographer: Tracey Ayton Photography

One invitation is an honour. Three speaks to something much deeper.

That kind of trust is one of the things we are most fiercely proud of because it tells us we are in alignment. That we have listened well. That we understand how our Clients want their homes to look, how they need them to function and, most importantly, how they want to feel within them.

This kitchen renovation is the latest chapter in a home we have had the privilege of shaping over time. Soft, layered and quietly sophisticated, it reflects the life unfolding inside it.

Because the greatest measure of our work has never been a beautiful photograph or winning awards.

It is being invited back.

Project: Champagne (Phase 2)
Designer: Huong Nguyen
Photographer: Tracey Ayton Photography

At first, I thought I simply needed distance from the noise, but somewhere in those three months offline, I found myself questioning why I was willingly participating in a relationship that often felt so toxic. Was I actually contributing something meaningful, or was I just adding yelling into the soul sucking insanity?

And then, in the gift of all that quiet, I rediscovered something I had forgotten.

I love the boring, ordinary rhythms of life. I love slow mornings, familiar routines, the absence of urgency, and the small moments of beauty that are almost impossible to notice when everything is moving too quickly. I realized how much I missed creating without the pressure to perform, optimize or turn every thought into content.

That made me wonder what it might look like to return differently.

Maybe I can simply create a softer place to land. A place to exhale. A creative corner where I can unapologetically share the spaces I love, the words that move me, and the beautiful things that still manage to catch my attention in a world increasingly committed to becoming a dumpster fire.

So perhaps this next chapter it’s less about showing up for the algorithm and more about creating a love letter to the heart-led creatives, makers, dreamers and quietly rebellious people who still believe there is value in making life more beautiful.

Although I’m a hopeless dreamer at heart, I’m pragmatic enough to know that beauty alone will not save the world.

But I do believe that if I can give our weary Souls a soft space to land while we figure out what comes next, then perhaps that is meaningful enough.

Project: Champagne (Phase 2)
Designer: Huong Nguyen
Photographer: Tracey Ayton Photography