The first time I truly fell in love with fall wasn’t in a big city or on some famous scenic highway. It was in a tiny mountain town where golden leaves drifted onto quiet sidewalks, local coffee shops smelled like…
My passport was sitting in a drawer, tucked under a stack of old boarding passes, and I remember staring at it one rainy Tuesday and sighing the way you sigh when you need a trip but your bank account (and…
I still remember standing on a ridge in Glacier National Park last August, watching the alpenglow spill across a lake so blue it barely looked real, and thinking: why did it take me this long to plan a trip around…
My first glimpse of a French lavender field stopped me mid-sentence on a phone call I still haven’t finished. The rows ran straight to the horizon, the air smelled like a perfume counter left out in the sun, and I…
I still remember the first time I pulled out of my driveway with nothing but a full tank, a playlist I’d been building for months, and a van that felt more like home than my actual apartment. There’s something about…
My love affair with slot canyons started the way most good obsessions do completely by accident. I wasn’t chasing a viral photo spot or checking a box off someone else’s bucket list. I was tired, a little lost, and squeezing…
My love affair with mountain towns started the summer I packed my car, left behind a heat wave that had my whole city wilting, and drove up into the pines just to feel a breeze again. Somewhere around 7,000 feet,…
My husband and I once drove three hours out of our way because a gas station clerk told us “the leaves are better that way.” We ended up on a gravel road in the middle of nowhere, completely lost, laughing…
My first August in Europe, I made every rookie mistake possible. I booked a non-refundable room in Santorini three days before arrival, paid double what I should have, and spent my first night wandering Fira at 1 a.m. because I…
My hiking boots used to sit in my closet collecting dust because I thought every worthwhile trail had to leave me gasping, blistered, and questioning my life choices. Then a friend dragged me up a gentle two-mile path one Saturday…
