Everything that defines the brand and the stories—characters, chaos, rituals, and small-town magic gone wrong (and sometimes right).
I’ve met a lot of unpredictable forces since we opened Backcountry Mystic, but none of them hold a candle to Nova Blackthorn. She arrived in my care wrapped in duct-taped glitter, righteous indignation, and a fierce determination to never again wear matching socks. At eight years old, Nova is a walking contradiction. She’s loud but…
Rowan isn’t loud, but he’s seismic. An 11-year-old astrology prodigy with a dry wit, sensory sensitivities, and zero tolerance for nonsense, Rowan navigates the world with cosmic precision and an unmatched talent for telling hard truths. He may not say much—but when he does, the stars listen. And sometimes, so do I.
Ever feel like your spiritual path needs less glitter and more bark? Ogham is an ancient Irish alphabet tied to tree wisdom—and no, you don’t need to live in a forest or speak fluent Gaelic to use it. This beginner’s guide breaks it down for the beautifully frazzled.
Talia doesn’t light candles for show or stage her spirituality for social media—she walks with the land like it’s a relative. As Isaac’s younger sister, she carries stories in her bones and speaks to the spirit of the forest in ways I’m still trying to understand. This week, I’m reflecting on what it means to be a settler learning from someone who never asked to teach—but whose presence rewrites everything I thought I knew about spiritual connection.
Everlie didn’t expect the river to talk back—but it did. In this sardonic yet sincere dive into signs and synchronicities, she unpacks how to recognize them, what to do when they get weird, and why sometimes the universe sends a goat instead of clarity. Spoiler: both are valid.
Meet Rainey Parker, Everlie’s skeptical, conspiracy-loving mother and Backcountry Mystic’s most unpredictable ally. A skeptic. A chaos agent. A legend.
At Backcountry Mystic’s summer solstice celebration, an earnest attempt to reenact the ancient battle between the Holly King and Oak King quickly spirals into a glitter-filled fiasco involving foam swords, goat interference, and spontaneous combustion. But even amid chaos, the wheel turns—and the laughter is worth the mess.
Raising Caleb was like parenting a charming raccoon with a knack for spiritual insight and disappearing acts. He never followed the rules—but he somehow always knew when to hug you, hand you a snack, or light the wrong sage wand at exactly the wrong moment. Now he’s back in BriarVeil, crashing on my couch, charming the customers at Backcountry Mystic, and accidentally becoming our store’s chaotic TikTok oracle. He doesn’t call himself spiritual—but I’m starting to think he’s the most mystically tuned-in one of all.
I wanted to celebrate the Summer Solstice with reverence. You know—connect with nature, honour ancient traditions, maybe light a symbolic candle or two. What I didn’t plan on was being chased into my suburban bathtub with flaming tuna cans and salad tongs while the fire department pulled up outside.
If you’ve ever felt spiritually drawn to seasonal celebration but allergic to organized woo, this one’s for you. We’re diving into the real roots of the solstice—Celtic fire festivals, Oak Kings in dramatic custody battles, Indigenous wisdom that actually makes sense—and how to honour it all without summoning your inner influencer or an accidental fire spirit.
Some people ease into your life with a polite knock and a thank-you-for-having-us fruit basket. Owen Blackthorn came back into mine wielding a crowbar and a wet-vac. That’s how he became part of Backcountry Mystic, whether he meant to or not. To be fair, he wasn’t exactly planning to move in. Not at first. But…
