The quietest places have taught me the most.
My name is Phyllis.
I cook for mineral exploration crews in the far north of Saskatchewan. We live in exploration tents for weeks at a time, surrounded by untouched wilderness, bears, weather, and silence.
It’s a wild, sometimes lonely life—and it’s taught me more about resilience than any self-help book ever did.
But that’s just part of my story.
More than that, I’m a mother of four very cool adult kids. I’m a grandmother of two, soon to be three! Our family was built on laughter, survival, and love so fierce it could start a forest fire.
My kids and I have been through it—generational trauma, estrangement, addiction, betrayal, and the fallout from every wrong turn or bad decision I have ever made. Some days, the only thing holding us together was duct tape and sarcasm.
We went through some tough years. There were times when I wasn’t sure how we would get through it. And then we did.
Rising together, falling together, growing and evolving together. Sure, we fall out sometimes, even today- a wonderful consequence of having free-thinking and strong-willed kids. but we always come back together. We aren’t perfect. There are many days I beat myself up for not always being the mother I thought I should have been.
I lost my own mother before we were able to fix things between us.
I was cut off from my extended family.
I’ve survived things I still don’t know how to talk about out loud.
And somehow, I’m still here.
Still growing.
Still laughing.
Still trying to bloom.
This blog isn’t about having it all figured out.
It’s about healing while you’re still wiping grilled cheese off the walls.
It’s about grieving a mother who you felt never really saw you.
Its about figuring out your place in the world, now that your babies have their own babies and families to care for.
It’s about finding magic in the Northern wind. Screaming into the void and then laughing with your kids over burned toast and weird dreams.
It’s about surviving the darkness and the little girl who dreamed her way to safety.
What You’ll Find Here
- Reflections from the field and forest
- Thoughts on healing, womanhood, and survival
- Motherhood, grief, and getting through hard days
- Family antics and the kind of love you fight for
- Humor, always—because if I didn’t laugh, I’d explode
Why ‘Barely Blooming’?
Because healing isn’t a straight line.
Because sometimes you’re growing, even when no one sees it.
Because surviving is sacred.
And because a little bloom—after everything—still counts.
If You’re Here, You Belong
This is a space for people who’ve lived hard, loved harder, and are still learning how to be soft again.
You’re not alone.
And you don’t have to bloom perfectly.
Just barely is enough.
Barely Blooming 