Fog from Cook Inlet settled over Anchor Point and Stariski Creek
Winter Is Coming… But First, Autumn (Maybe)
By Someone Who Owns More Gloves than Shoes
I was born and raised in Alaska, and now, off-grid life brings a whole new level of Alaskan living. For most people, summer means a break from school, trips to the beach, and carefree weekends filled with sunscreen, sandals, and icy drinks.
For Alaskans? Summer means it’s almost winter. Again.
While others are celebrating the first cookout of the season, we’re making mental checklists for six months from now. The snow may just be melting off the yard, but we’re already thinking ahead—Do we have enough wood? Should we patch that insulation? Is the generator about to give us another nervous breakdown?
We’re constantly asking: How can we make next winter better? A Hawaiian vacation comes to mind. Sunlight. Warmth. No ice on the doormat. But while sipping piña coladas on a tropical beach sounds like the ideal solution to surviving sub-zero darkness, it’s more of a fantasy than a plan. That dreamy escape usually ends somewhere between the cost of airfare and the fact that the chickens still need feeding.
So instead of boarding a plane, we buckle down. Summer becomes the most intense “break” imaginable. We harvest fish, berries, and whatever our gardens manage to produce between frost warnings. We do maintenance—on the cabin, the boiler, the vehicles, the snow plow—because if we don’t, we’ll regret it in February. All while trying to sneak in a little actual summer fun before the fireweed climbs too high and nature’s countdown clock starts beeping.
And then it hits. Not snow, not yet—just reality. School emails start trickling in. The homeschool guidance counselor is scheduling group hikes, swim lessons, and train rides like we’re not already juggling ten thousand things. We blink, and someone drops the phrase “termination dust,” and it’s basically the bat signal for Alaskans to panic.
Autumn, if we can even call it that, is less a season and more like a grace period. A bonus level. A few snowless weeks to squeeze in all the projects we swore we’d finish in June. The mornings get crisp, the light gets golden, and somewhere in there, we still end up on the beach… only this time we’re collecting coal for the boiler, not seashells.
But here’s the thing. Amidst the chaos and the lists and the constant state of seasonal whiplash, there’s a deep sense of satisfaction. The kind that comes from building your life with your hands—and then moisturizing those hands with silky, hydrating tallow body butter you made yourself.
We find comfort in these little luxuries: a warm mug of spiced cider in one hand, our Apple Cider Body Butter in the other—soothing, seasonal, and lightly scented like autumn itself. Our Denali Body Butter, infused with wild-harvested spruce tip oil, brings the scent of fresh alpine air indoors, even when the skies turn gray. And as temperatures drop and joints start to ache from one too many wood-stacking marathons, there’s nothing like our Devil’s Club Salve to soothe the wear and tear of living close to the land.
And because cozy isn’t just a feeling—it’s a look—we’ve got you covered with our wildly beautiful hoodies, too. Themed with our signature logo, they’re soft, warm, and tough enough for cabin life. Whether you’re chopping wood, chasing kids, or just pretending you have time to sit down with a cup of cider, it’s basically the unofficial uniform of shoulder season.
We take immense joy in crafting products that reflect our life here—gritty, gorgeous, and just a little wild. Because even if autumn only lasts a blink, we believe it should feel like a deep breath after a long sprint.
So yes, winter is coming. But first… maybe, just maybe, we get a little autumn. And if not? Well, at least our skin will be moisturized, our joints will thank us, and our hoodies will keep us cozy until the snow settles in for good
