It started with a bucket — a worn, rusty one.

I didn't step into creating because I wanted to start a business. I stepped into it because I was trying to find peace.

In 2022, my world shifted when my mom faced a brief four month battle with cancer before going to her heavenly home.

Long before that, junkin' with her was one of my favorite things. Every. Single. Trip. I somehow came home with another bucket. It became a running joke in the family — "Wonder how many buckets are in the back of the truck this time?" We laughed about it every time I picked one up.

After losing her so quickly, everything felt too quiet. I tried to keep going and silence the ache, but peace didn't arrive right away. It found me in motion — the day I took my best friend on a junkin' trip to North Arkansas. We came back with lots of goodies, and without a plan, I started transforming them. With each brustroke, each sanding pass, something inside me began to settle.

And wouldn't you know, I brought home a bucket on that trip too.

I almost talked myself out of this journey more times than I can count. My husband — who knows me better than anyone — told me, "Don't quit...keep going."

And my boys, they picked on me for the longest time, asking if I was ever going to actually sell anything...but they've had my back every step of the way. From loading and unloading furniture, to randomly picking up a find, to lending a strong back or arm when something heavy needs moving — they may joke about my projects, but they show up every time.

It was in those late evenings and weekends spent in the shop — with sawdust on the floor, paint always on my hand, bestie cheering me on, memories of Mom close by, and my husband and boys believing in me — that Buckets to Blooms began to quietly grow.