There’s a version of travel most of us have done at least once: the whirlwind itinerary where you wake up in a new place every two days, eat at restaurants that showed up in someone else’s “top ten” list, and spend half your trip figuring out parking. You come home exhausted, having technically seen a lot, but unable to say with confidence what any of it actually felt like.
Slow travel is the antidote to that — but not in the way people usually describe it.
The advice is almost always about reducing the number of places you go. Fewer cities. Fewer flights. Fewer stamps in the passport. And while there’s something to that, it misses the real point. Slowing down isn’t about covering less ground. It’s about staying somewhere long enough that the place has a chance to become real to you.
The Problem Isn’t Your Pace — It’s Your Setup
When you change accommodations every two or three nights, something subtle happens. Your brain never fully arrives. You’re always half-thinking about check-out times, always repacking, always orienting yourself to a new neighborhood. The logistics eat the experience.
Even a stunning destination can feel hollow when you’re constantly in transit mode. You see things, sure. But there’s a difference between seeing a place and actually being in it — and that difference usually comes down to whether you’ve had time to stop optimizing and start noticing.
The people who seem to get the most out of their trips aren’t necessarily the ones who slow down their overall travel. They’re the ones who stop moving long enough to let a single place do its work.
The Basecamp Model
One approach that’s changed the way I think about trips is what I’d call the basecamp model: one home base, excursions outward.
You pick a place to stay that’s worth staying in — not just a convenient jumping-off point, but somewhere you’d be happy to simply be. Then you radiate outward from there. Day hikes, day trips, guided experiences, long afternoon walks. You come back each evening to the same bed, the same view, the same coffee in the morning. You unpack once and leave it that way.
What you get from this is hard to quantify but easy to feel: a rhythm. A sense that this place belongs to you, at least for now. The logistical noise fades, and the actual experience of being somewhere starts to surface.
It works in cities as well as it does in the wilderness. But there’s something about remote, landscape-heavy destinations that makes the basecamp model feel almost essential.
What Alaska Taught Me About Staying Put
Alaska is a place that will punish you for trying to cover it. The state is enormous — roughly the size of Western Europe — and its landscapes are so dramatically varied that any attempt to “do Alaska” in a single trip is both futile and a little sad. You end up skimming the surface of something that deserves your full attention.
The Talkeetna Mountains, about 90 minutes north of Anchorage, are a good example of this. This is a region where mornings can start with frost on the tundra and afternoons can end with the sky doing things you don’t have the vocabulary for yet. The kind of place where spending a week in one spot feels like the obvious choice — because there’s genuinely enough there to fill a week, and the slower you move, the more you find.
Occasionally, a property comes along that seems to understand this instinctively. Hatcher Pass Castle is an all-inclusive wilderness lodge in the Talkeetna Mountains that’s built almost entirely around the basecamp philosophy. Guests stay for multiple nights, and the activities — UTV tours through mountain terrain, Northern Lights viewing, glacier hikes, freshwater fishing on Willow Creek — unfold across the stay rather than being crammed into a single day. The lodge handles the logistics. You arrive and let the place be the whole trip.
That’s what the basecamp model looks like when someone builds a whole property around it.
How to Apply This Wherever You’re Going
You don’t need Alaska or a wilderness lodge to travel this way. The basecamp model works anywhere, as long as you’re willing to apply a few guiding principles.
Choose depth over breadth. Pick one region and commit to it. Resist the urge to add the side trip. The thing you skip on this visit becomes the reason you come back.
Build in genuinely unscheduled time. Not “free afternoon” time where you scroll through things to do — actual blank space. Let yourself get a little bored. Boredom in a new place has a way of turning into the best thing that happened on the trip.
Let the place set the pace. Arrive without a rigid agenda. Ask the people there what they’d do with a free day. Eat somewhere without a tourist in sight. Walk until you find something worth stopping for.
Stay longer than feels necessary. If you’ve booked three nights somewhere genuinely interesting, seriously consider whether four or five might transform the experience. The difference between visiting a place and feeling like you’ve actually been there is often just a day or two.
Attention Is the Thing
Slow travel, when it works, is really just travel with your attention fully engaged. It has less to do with how fast you move and more to do with how fully you arrive.
The world has no shortage of beautiful places that are beautiful in ways you can’t photograph or add to a list. Those places reward exactly one thing: time. Not a lot of it, necessarily. Just enough to stop rushing and start noticing.
That’s the whole trick, really.
*contributed post*
Colorado Is for Everyone — Not Just Skiers
Every winter, millions of people make their way to Colorado’s mountain towns with one goal in mind: skiing. But not everyone in the group skis. Maybe you’re traveling with a friend who loves the slopes while you’d rather keep your feet on solid ground. Maybe your kids are too young, or you’ve got a knee that has other opinions about carving down a mountain. Or maybe you’ve just always suspected that Colorado has more to offer than ski lifts and moguls — and you’re right.
Colorado in winter is genuinely magical, and some of the most memorable experiences happen far away from the ski resort. If you find yourself in Breckenridge, Vail, or any of the mountain towns tucked into the Rockies this season, here’s what to do with your days — and why you might secretly become the most satisfied person in your travel group.
Discover the History Beneath the Snow
Before Colorado was a playground for powder enthusiasts, it was gold rush country. The mountain towns that draw visitors today were built by miners who flooded the Rockies in the 1860s and 70s chasing fortune underground. That history is still written all over the landscape — in the Victorian storefronts, the abandoned mine shafts, the ghost towns that sit silent in the high country.
Leadville is one of the best places in the state to feel this history. Sitting at 10,152 feet, it’s the highest incorporated city in North America, and its streets look much like they did a century ago. But the most remarkable part of Leadville’s story lies outside of town, where old gold mines and remnants of ghost towns are scattered across the hillsides.
One of the most memorable ways to experience it — especially in winter — is through Leadville UTV tours. The guided tours take you through the historical mining district in heated, enclosed vehicles, up to elevations over 12,000 feet, past gold mine ruins, and to viewpoints with unobstructed panoramas of Colorado’s two tallest peaks. No driving experience needed, no cold to fight off, and guides who double as historians. It’s the kind of experience that stays with you long after you’ve come back home.
Soak in a Colorado Hot Spring
If there is one quintessentially Colorado winter experience, it’s slipping into a natural hot spring while snowflakes fall around you. The contrast of steaming mineral water against cold mountain air is something that has to be felt to be fully understood — and it’s an experience that belongs firmly in the cozy luxury category.
Glenwood Springs, about two hours from Denver, is home to one of the largest hot springs pools in the world. Strawberry Park Hot Springs near Steamboat Springs is smaller and wilder, tucked into the forest with a more natural feel. Both are worth the drive and both have a way of turning a full afternoon into something quietly extraordinary. Bring warm layers for the walk back to the car — you’ll be pleasantly loose and a little sleepy.
Get Into the Snow Without Skis
Just because you’re not skiing doesn’t mean you have to avoid the snow entirely. Colorado’s mountain towns are surrounded by terrain that is absolutely wonderful on foot — or on a sled.
Snowshoeing is one of the most accessible winter activities there is. Most outdoor outfitters in mountain towns rent equipment for very little, and you don’t need any prior experience. A two-hour snowshoe through a snowy pine forest, with nothing but your own footprints behind you and mountains ahead, is deeply satisfying in a way that’s hard to put into words.
If you’re traveling with kids, tubing hills are a near-universal favorite. Several resorts operate dedicated tubing parks open to non-skiers, and the combination of cold air, shrieking laughter, and hot cocoa after makes for a thoroughly good afternoon.
Embrace the Après-Ski Life (Without the Skiing)
Here’s a secret the ski crowd knows: the fireside, warm-drink, mountain-town experience is actually at its best when you’re not exhausted from a full day on the slopes. You can stroll into the coziest lodge in Breckenridge at three in the afternoon, fully rested, and settle into a leather chair by the fire with a glass of red wine while everyone else limps back in on sore legs.
Colorado’s mountain towns have genuinely excellent food, boutique hotels with deep soaking tubs, wine bars with serious wine lists, and a pace of life that rewards slowing down. If you’ve never let yourself just be in a mountain town without an agenda, winter is the perfect time to try it.
Take a Scenic Drive and Let the Mountains Do the Talking
Colorado’s mountain scenery doesn’t require any effort to appreciate — you can experience a great deal of it from a warm car on a scenic byway. The stretch of US-24 between Buena Vista and Leadville is one of the most beautiful winter drives in the state, with the Collegiate Peaks rising on one side and the Arkansas River valley below. Highway 82 over Independence Pass (when open) offers views that make it genuinely difficult to keep your eyes on the road.
Winter also brings elk herds down from the high country, and spotting a large group of elk crossing a snow-covered meadow at dusk is one of those moments that reminds you why Colorado is so special.
You Don’t Need Skis to Fall in Love with Colorado
The mountains have a way of getting into people. Not because of the ski runs or the terrain parks — but because of the light on fresh snow, the quiet of a winter forest, the feeling of being somewhere genuinely grand. Non-skiers who approach a Colorado winter trip with curiosity rather than hesitation almost always come back with stories that rival anything happening on the mountain.
So if you’re heading to the Rockies this season without poles and boots, go with an open heart. You’re not missing out on Colorado — you might just be experiencing a different, and equally beautiful, version of it.
*contributed post*
There is a particular kind of grief that comes with loving someone who is struggling with addiction. It doesn't look the way grief is supposed to look. There are no casseroles on the doorstep, no cards in the mail. Instead, there's a low, persistent ache — the kind that sits with you at dinner tables and wakes you up at 3 a.m. wondering what you missed, what you should have said, whether things could have gone differently.
If this is where you are right now, I want you to know: you are not alone, and what you are feeling makes complete sense.
Loving someone through addiction is one of the most disorienting things a family can walk through. There is so much advice out there — some of it contradictory, some of it unhelpful — and so little honest conversation about what it actually feels like from where you're standing. So here are five things that rarely get said.
1. Your Love Alone Cannot Save Them — And That Is Not Your Failure
This is perhaps the hardest thing to accept: no matter how much you love someone, your love cannot pull them out of addiction. Not your prayers, not your tears, not the perfectly worded conversation at the kitchen table at midnight.
Addiction is a complex, chronic brain condition — one that involves changes to the brain’s reward systems, impulse control, and stress responses. These are changes that require professional care to address. Love is powerful. But it is not a clinical intervention.
The danger in believing otherwise is that it leads to exhausting and often counterproductive behavior — covering for your loved one, shielding them from consequences, quietly rearranging your life to manage their crisis. This is called enabling, and it almost always comes from love. But love and enabling can look nearly identical from the inside.
Releasing the belief that if you just tried harder they would get better — that is not giving up. That is grace. Toward them, and toward yourself.
2. You Need Support Just as Much as They Do
There is an oxygen mask principle here: you cannot help anyone if you are running on empty.
Families and loved ones of people struggling with addiction often become so consumed by the person they’re trying to help that their own wellbeing quietly erodes. Sleep suffers. Friendships fade. There is a constant, exhausting hypervigilance — scanning every interaction for warning signs, bracing for the next crisis.
You deserve support. Not as a luxury, but as a necessity.
Al-Anon Family Groups exist specifically for people in your position — families and friends of those with alcohol and other drug problems — with chapters in nearly every city and town. Individual therapy with a counselor who understands addiction dynamics can also be genuinely life-changing. And sometimes the most healing thing is simply finding one other person who truly gets it.
Seeking support for yourself is not a betrayal of your loved one. It is how you stay present enough to actually be there for the long road ahead.
3. Recovery Isn’t One-Size-Fits-All — And Environment Matters More Than You Think
Not everyone heals the same way. For some people, outpatient treatment woven into their daily routine works beautifully. For others, what makes recovery possible is a complete change of environment — stepping away from the places, people, and rhythms that have become tangled up in their addiction.
This is one of the things that often surprises families: how much the setting of treatment matters. When someone is surrounded by the same triggers and the same daily cues that have sustained their addiction for years, changing those patterns is an uphill battle. A dedicated residential setting removes those obstacles and creates the space for real work to begin.
Some families have found that exploring residential treatment far from home opened doors that local options couldn’t. A Hawaii rehab program, for instance, can offer a truly immersive healing environment — licensed clinical care, holistic therapies, and the natural calm of the islands — where the distance itself becomes part of the healing. It’s not about running away. It’s about creating enough separation from the familiar to make something genuinely new possible.
4. Healthy Boundaries Are an Act of Love, Not Rejection
The word “boundaries” can sound cold — like drawing a line in the sand and daring someone to cross it. But healthy boundaries with a loved one in addiction are something different. They are a form of deep respect.
When you say, “I will not give you money,” or “I will not cover for you at work,” you are communicating something important: I take your life seriously. I take my own life seriously. I believe you are capable of more than this.
Boundaries protect you from the slow, corrosive harm of chronic enabling. But they also communicate to your loved one that the people around them are not willing to participate in their destruction. That is not rejection. That is love that refuses to look the other way.
5. Healing Is Possible — But It Looks Different Than You Expect
Recovery is not a straight line. Most people who find lasting sobriety have a story that includes setbacks, restarts, and long stretches of quiet, difficult work that no one around them could see. Progress in early recovery often looks less like dramatic transformation and more like showing up, day after day, to the uncomfortable work of becoming someone new.
This means that walking alongside your loved one in recovery requires recalibrating what counts as a win. A hard, honest conversation. A week without incident. A willingness to try again after a stumble. These are not small things.
And for you — the person standing beside them — healing looks different too. It might mean releasing expectations about timelines. It might mean accepting that you cannot know how this story ends, and choosing to love anyway. It might mean finding your own joy and aliveness again, separate from the crisis — which is not selfish, but necessary.
Hold onto hope. Not the fragile, white-knuckled kind that collapses at the first hard thing — but the grounded kind that has already been tested and is still standing.
You Don’t Have to Walk This Road Alone
Loving someone through addiction is one of the most challenging and courageous things a person can do. If you are in the middle of it right now: what you are carrying is heavy, and you deserve help carrying it.
The most important step — for your loved one and for you — is reaching out. To a counselor. To a support group. To a treatment program that offers real, individualized care. If you’re not sure where to start, SAMHSA’s National Helpline is a free, confidential resource available around the clock. You don’t have to have everything figured out before you make that first call. You just have to make it.
*contributed post*
Key West has a reputation that precedes itself. Mention the name in conversation and someone will inevitably say something about Duval Street, frozen drinks, and the particular chaos of Fantasy Fest. And those things exist — Key West leans into its wildness with a certain pride. But there is another version of this island entirely, one that belongs to the early morning kayakers, the people who know where to find the best stone crab, and the travelers who came because they heard something about the water here that they had to see for themselves.
Get on the Water
Whatever brought you to Key West, the ocean is where the island reveals itself. The water surrounding the Florida Keys is unlike anything most travelers have experienced — shallow, impossibly clear, warm enough to swim in for much of the year, and home to one of the most vibrant marine ecosystems in North America.
The most memorable way to experience it is through a guided outing. Opting for eco tours in Key West — the kind led by actual naturalists and biologists who know the backcountry by heart — puts you in places that a beach chair never will. You might find yourself drifting through mangrove tunnels, snorkeling over a living reef, or watching a pod of bottlenose dolphins surface close enough to hold your breath. These aren’t scripted wildlife encounters; they’re mornings on the water with someone who can tell you the name of every species you see and why it matters.
The Florida Keys National Marine Sanctuary encompasses more than 2,900 square miles of ocean. From a boat, that scale begins to feel real.
Walk the Historic District Like You Have Nowhere to Be
Key West’s Old Town is one of the most walkable, architecturally distinctive neighborhoods in Florida — possibly in the entire South. The streets are lined with 19th-century Bahamian-style wooden houses, their wraparound porches shaded by bougainvillea and frangipani. There is almost no chain anything here. What exists instead is a neighborhood that has accumulated character over two centuries of being, alternately, a wrecking capital, a cigar-manufacturing hub, and an unlikely haven for writers and artists.
The Hemingway Home on Whitehead Street is worth a visit, though the house itself matters less than its six-toed cats and the particular light in the backyard garden. The Key West Cemetery, tucked into the center of town, is unexpectedly absorbing — the epitaphs alone are worth the detour. The best strategy, really, is to set out without a rigid itinerary and see what the streets offer.
The Food Worth Lingering Over
Key West takes its food seriously, and the best of it is rooted in what’s pulled from the nearby water. Stone crab claws are available from mid-October through May and are worth planning a trip around. Fresh yellowtail snapper, lobster bisque, conch fritters done well (a higher bar than it sounds) — the island has a culinary identity that goes well beyond the frozen-drink economy.
The restaurants worth finding tend to be away from the loudest blocks: small waterfront spots with minimal signage, a lunch counter that’s been serving the same grouper sandwich for twenty years. The Saturday farmers market at Bayview Park is a useful anchor for a slow morning. The general principle: follow the locals, eat near the water, and order whatever the daily catch is.
The Quiet Places: Gardens, Beaches, and Wild Spaces
Key West is small — roughly four miles by two — but it manages to contain genuine pockets of quiet. Fort Zachary Taylor State Park, at the island’s southwest tip, has the best beach on Key West proper: less crowded than the more tourist-facing spots, with calm water good for swimming and snorkeling right from shore. The fort itself is a well-preserved Civil War-era structure that rewards the curious.
The Key West Butterfly and Nature Conservatory, a short walk from the busier end of Duval, is a warm, slow, genuinely delightful place to spend an hour — hundreds of live butterflies in a glass-enclosed tropical garden, with flamingos wandering through. It reads as a tourist attraction on paper and delivers something quieter in person. For mangroves, the backcountry north of the island opens into a landscape that feels ancient and entirely apart from the rest of the city.
Sunset, Done Right
No trip to Key West is complete without watching the sun go down, and the island has made this into a nightly ritual at Mallory Square. The Sunset Celebration there — with street performers, artists, and considerable crowds — is genuinely lively and worth experiencing at least once. But if your preference runs toward stillness, the western end of Fort Zachary Taylor beach or a quiet stretch of the White Street Pier offers the same sky without the audience.
Key West at golden hour, with water on every side and the light going copper over the Gulf, earns every word written about it.
*contributed post*
There’s a moment on the drive into Hatcher Pass when the road climbs out of the valley, the spruce trees thin out, and the Talkeetna Mountains open up around you in every direction. It’s the kind of moment where you instinctively reach for your camera and then just… put it down. Because no photo is going to do this justice.
If Hatcher Pass isn’t already on your Alaska itinerary, it should be. Not as a backup plan. Not as an “if we have time.” As a genuine destination — one of those places that surprises you so completely that you end up recommending it to everyone you know.
Why Most Visitors Skip It (And Why That’s a Mistake)
Alaska is enormous, and most road trip itineraries fill up fast. Denali, the Kenai Peninsula, Seward, Valdez — there’s no shortage of iconic stops. Hatcher Pass, tucked into the Talkeetna Mountains above the Matanuska-Susitna Valley, rarely makes the highlight reel.
That’s exactly why it’s worth going. The crowds that descend on better-known spots simply don’t make it here. What you get instead is unfiltered Alaska — alpine tundra, abandoned gold mine ruins, mountain streams running cold and clear, and the kind of silence that reminds you how big this place really is.
Getting There: The Drive Itself Is the Experience
Hatcher Pass is accessible from two directions, and both are worth knowing about.
From the south, you’ll pick up the Palmer-Fishhook Road out of Palmer, winding north through birch and spruce before the road rises into open alpine terrain. From the north, you approach via Willow from the Parks Highway — a gentler climb that gives you a different perspective on the range entirely.
Either way, budget more time than you think you’ll need. The road demands it. Around every bend there’s another pull-off worth stopping at, another angle on the mountains that didn’t exist five minutes ago. The elevation gain is gradual enough that you feel the landscape shifting slowly around you, which somehow makes it more dramatic, not less. If you’re doing an Anchorage-to-Denali drive or the reverse, the Willow approach turns Hatcher Pass into a natural halfway stop rather than a detour — it adds roughly an hour but returns something far more valuable.
What You’ll Find at the Top
The crown jewel of Hatcher Pass is Independence Mine State Historical Park, a gold mine that operated from the 1930s through the 1940s and now sits preserved against the mountainside like something out of a novel. The buildings are weathered and beautiful, the history is genuinely fascinating, and the setting — surrounded by ridgelines at nearly 3,900 feet — is extraordinary.
Beyond the mine, the landscape itself is the attraction. In summer, the tundra blooms with wildflowers and the hiking is as good as anywhere in Alaska. Fall brings colors that locals will tell you rival anything in New England, though the palette here runs toward amber and rust against grey granite rather than the fiery reds of the eastern forests. In winter, the whole place transforms. Snow comes heavy and early, and the mountains take on a completely different character — quieter, more austere, and stunning in a way that feels almost private.
How to Actually Get Into the Backcountry
Here’s the thing about Hatcher Pass that most visitors miss: what you can see from the road and the established trailheads is just the beginning.
The terrain beyond those points — the creek crossings, the ridgeline routes, the high alpine bowls that most people never reach on foot — requires either serious backcountry experience or a guide who knows the land. For most travelers, a guided experience is the move, and it changes the visit entirely.
The Hatcher Pass tours operating out of the Willow side of the pass use heated, enclosed UTVs to take guests into terrain that’s simply inaccessible any other way — through creek beds, across open tundra, up into the kind of elevation where Denali occasionally appears on the horizon when conditions cooperate. No experience required, all gear provided, and the perspective you gain on the mountains is fundamentally different from what you get standing at a trailhead.
If you’re visiting in winter, the same operators run snow-tracked UTVs, snowmobile tours, and Northern Lights excursions. The aurora is a natural phenomenon — no guarantees — but Hatcher Pass is one of the better spots in the region to chase it, with minimal light pollution and wide open skies.
When to Go
Hatcher Pass rewards visitors in every season, but the experience changes dramatically depending on when you arrive.
Summer (late May through September) offers the longest days, the best hiking, and wildflowers that peak in July. Fall, particularly mid-August through September, is arguably the most beautiful — the colors come fast and don’t last long, so timing matters. Winter settles in by October and stays through April, bringing snowmobile season, frozen waterfalls, and the possibility of Northern Lights on clear nights. Spring is the shoulder season: roads reopen gradually, the snowpack retreats, and the first green of the year is quietly electric.
Practical Tips Before You Go
A few things worth knowing before you head up: fill your gas tank in Palmer or Wasilla, because there are no services on the pass itself. Cell service disappears once you climb above the valley — download your maps offline before you leave. Weather in the Talkeetna Mountains changes quickly and dramatically; what starts as a clear morning can become a cold, foggy afternoon with no warning. Dress in layers regardless of the forecast, and bring more water than you think you’ll need.
The road through the pass is paved most of the way but narrows considerably in sections. Take it slow, use the pull-offs, and let the faster traffic pass. There’s nothing up there that’s worth rushing toward.
It’ll Be the One You Talk About
The Alaska itinerary items that tend to stick with people longest are rarely the famous ones. They’re the places someone mentioned offhand, the detours taken on a whim, the moments where the landscape caught you completely off guard.
Hatcher Pass is that kind of place. Give it a full day. You’ll leave wishing you’d given it two.
*contributed post*
becoming a full-time teacher seller: a february check-in from my teachers pay teachers journey
April 2, 2026
Happy Thursday friends! I hope that you are having a wonderful week! It is hard to believe that it is April and I am just now sharing about the February check in from my Teachers Pay Teachers seller journey!
I am so excited to share the February check-in from my teachers pay teachers journey! The last couple of months of sharing has been so encouraging with y'alls feedback that it is exciting to share -and definitely a bit vulnerable for this also! If you missed the last couple of months you can find the posts by clicking on the links below:
2025 Journey
If you missed November's post I shared that for years, since I started my teachers pay teachers shop in 2021 (click HERE to go directly to the shop), I’ve quietly built quality, engaging and educational resources, uploaded them very early in the morning or very late at night, working on the weekends, attending webinars, attending in person events, refined listings, worked on the brand of the shop, and celebrated some small wins in my Teachers Pay Teachers shop. Occasionally, I’ve shared best-seller roundups (like this one), but lately I’ve felt a nudge to invite you into the journey itself—not just the highlights, but the faithful, behind-the-scenes work of becoming.
This process for me has had some starts and stops along the way due to life and a variety of seasons. In the late winter of 2025 I decided to really start investing time into the shop and it has truly been an amazing experience. There were a couple of "life things" that took place that didn't allow me to fully focus on the shop for various reasons all the time as much as I would have liked, but it is okay. That is something I have definitely learned this past year. It is slow going but that is okay- this again is not about highlights but about the faithful, behind-the-scenes work of becoming and building this in a full-time income. I am sure that many people, like myself, are wanting to develop a TPT store as one of your 3-7 income streams that is recommended for a healthy "wealth" lifestyle.
If you’ve ever wondered what it actually looks like to grow a Teachers Pay Teachers store toward a full-time income—with a full-time job plus other life responsibilities- so slowly, imperfectly, and with intention—this is for you.
I shared this a bit last month, but if January felt like a reminder of the times that I needed to focus on other things in life, so did February. The weeks leading up to mom's surgery at the end of January plus balancing a month full of packed appointments, me having a long-awaited and medically necessary root canal, travel back and forth to NYC for more appointments for my mom, balancing a second job as financially things are very difficult, and then getting the flu at the end of January and being extremely sick on top of care-giving all while working full time was a lot.
February turned into an unexpected month of heavy things as mom developed an infection after the surgery, and we learned the difficult news that we were looking at additional surgery and treatment. It was a heavy month and there were additional behind the scenes things of life that just took up incredible amounts of time and reminded me that this journey will take time.
In the past this would have discouraged me, but instead, I was reminded of my meeting with Whitney in November and behind the scenes just kept plugging away, one little step at a time. So if November felt like laying groundwork, and December felt like watching seeds quietly take root, and January felt softly encouraging, February felt like I was slowly moving forward as I had a foundation in place to keep moving forward- even if it was just accomplishing a few items. February also reminded me why I am working to make this a full-time income stream as one of my 3-7 income streams because passive income in the midst of life situations and crisis is key to supporting those in my life that are most important to me well.
For me ... February reminded me of why I am working so hard to do this... and the numbers turned out to be slightly encouraging and a gentle encouragement to keep pressing forward to the future.
As a brief look back from February:
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Store ranking: 12,005 (90th percentile)
January: 13,994 (89th percentile)
December: 9,520 (91st percentile)
November: 17,229 (85th percentile)
New followers gained: 1 (total: 88)
January: 0
December:2
November: 1
Total earnings: $154.06
January: $127.69
December: $156.14
November: $79.04
Shop views: 438
January: 366
December: 1046
November: 292
Resources sold: 73
February: 56
January: 56
December:75
November: 32
Conversion Percentage Rate: 17%
After attending a webinar that TPT did in February I learned that a "goal" conversion rate is 2-3%. This was interesting to learn as I had never considered this before, so I will be adding this category in now also- with the goal to reach at least 50% conversation rate in the next months, but thrilled with the 17% rate!
Reviews: 1!!! (5 STARS!!!)
January: 3
December:0
November: 0
Seeing those numbers side-by-side with previous months is very helpful —not because they represent “arrival,” but because they represent movement despite an incredibly difficult month. This wasn’t accidental growth. It came from intention. If you are on this journey also- keep track because the numbers are encouraging to help remind you of gradually moving forward piece by piece. Like I mentioned in November- none of these numbers shout “overnight success.” But put together, they tell a story of forward motion and if you are working full-time like I am and balancing multiple responsibilities (and the holidays and several other items in December) plus trying to grow a TPT store than you completely understand how wonderful this success felt.
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A Quiet Global Reach I Didn’t Expect
One of the most meaningful surprises this month was where my resources traveled. In February, sales came from: Canada, Australia, and the United States (26 states). There is something profoundly humbling about realizing that lessons created in my home are finding their way into classrooms around the world. It reminded me that this work—no matter how small it feels—has reach far beyond my own screen.
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February's Top 5 Best-Selling Resources
Most of the best selling resources for the month of February were focused on the Winter Olympics! I am so glad that these resources were helpful to so many people!
This was a bundle that I was so excited to see was so helpful for so many teachers!! I worked hard to create a week of resources that centered all around personal finance and the 2026 Olympics to bring real-life world events into the Personal Finance classroom! This was a best seller in February and January!!
Seeing these resources resonate affirmed something important for me: practical financial literacy, especially when connected to real-life seasons and decisions, and created uniquely truly matters to teachers and students alike.
#2 (tied)- Olympic Word Search
You can purchase it HERE!
If you’re building a TpT shop, dreaming of one, or simply curious about what’s possible beyond the classroom, I hope this space feels like an invitation—not pressure—to keep going. Leave a comment below- share your TPT shop and let's all follow along to support each other!
As I have stepped into April, my focus isn’t on chasing numbers—it’s on:
* continuing to refine what works
* staying rooted in classroom-ready, practical resources
* building one quiet income stream with care and integrity
If you’re building a TpT shop, thinking about starting one, or simply curious about what this process actually looks like month-by-month, I’m grateful you’re here.
This isn’t about overnight success.
It’s about becoming—one quality resource, one revision, one month at a time.
Happy Thursday friends- here’s to small steps, faithful work, and becoming.
Go directly to the shop HERE!
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