The Nordic Collection: Five countries. Five traditions. Five stories.

Living on the northern Oregon Coast, it's hard not to notice the influence of Nordic heritage. From Astoria's Scandinavian Midsummer Festival to family recipes, heritage parks, fishing traditions, and familiar last names, those traditions are woven into the community around us.

But every community has traditions like these.

Maybe where you live they're Scandinavian. Maybe they're German, Irish, Mexican, Filipino, Native American, or something else entirely. Every place has traditions that helped shape the people who call it home.

This summer, I'm excited to introduce the Nordic Collection: five handcrafted soaps inspired by five Nordic traditions that helped shape the community I now call home. Each bar is available in our shop, but I hope you'll enjoy the stories whether you take one home or simply join me on the journey.

These five stories are my way of exploring one small piece of the heritage that has helped shape life here on the northern Oregon Coast.

Lemon Moon

Some traditions aren't grand celebrations or even reasons to gather. They're simply shared experiences that connect us.

Growing up in Philadelphia, Tastykakes were one of those shared connections. (Cheesesteaks too, of course.) Mention a Tastykake to someone from Philadelphia and you'll almost certainly spark a conversation. You'll either bond over your favorite varieties or debate whether today's Tastykakes are worth the bite. (They aren't...but I'd still eat all of them.)  

In Denmark, Citronmåne ("Lemon Moon") is one of those familiar treats that sparks the same kind of nostalgia. You'll find these half-moon cakes in grocery stores, gas stations, bakeries, and home kitchens alike. They're picked up as a snack on the go, bought for a friend who's having a tough day, shared over coffee, or baked at home for family. 

It's simple. It's familiar. It's comforting. On the go or taking it slow, Lemon Moon reminds us that sometimes the simplest traditions are the ones that make us feel most at home. 

Rosemary’s Cabin

When we first moved to the northern Oregon Coast, we noticed something that felt unusual to us: people here don't just say mosey...they actually live it.

Back east, life often felt like a race. Walking faster. Working faster. Always trying to get to the next thing. Here, we've learned that sometimes slowing down is part of the destination.

Scattered throughout Norway are small cabins known as hytter (HEWT-er). Some are tucked into the mountains (my personal favorite), while others sit beside lakes or along the coast. For generations these cabins have offered a place to slow down, reconnect with nature, and spend some time with family and friends. 

I imagine a kettle warming on the stove, rosemary growing beside the cabin door, and the scent of the forest drifting in through an open window. Rosemary’s Cabin reminds us that sometimes a good mosey is just what we need. To slow down, wander without a rush, give our hearts and minds a healthy break, reconnect with the people and places that matter most.

Swedish Fish

Some traditions are passed down around the dinner table or learned from grandparents. Others become part of our lives before we ever realize where they came from.

Growing up, I knew Swedish Fish long before I knew much about Sweden. They were simply a familiar candy. Bright red, fish-shaped, and somehow always around (probably because they were one of my mother’s favorite treats). I never stopped to wonder why they were fish, where they came from, or how they had traveled across the Atlantic to become part of so many childhood memories here in the United States.

Years later, I learned that the candy was created in Sweden, inspired by the country's long connection to fishing and the sea. Without realizing it, I had been carrying a tiny piece of another culture with me all along.

That realization reminded me that traditions don't always stay where they begin. They travel with people, cross oceans, and quietly become part of everyday life.

Maybe that's true of more than candy.

This reminds me of the lyrics to one of my favorite musicals, Fiddler on the Roof:

"You may ask, 'How did this tradition start?' I'll tell you why … I don't know! But because of our traditions, everyone knows who he is and what God expects him to do."

We often think of tradition as something we've lost or need to relearn. But perhaps tradition has been quietly shaping us all along. Every family, every community, and every place leaves us with small pieces of itself that become part of who we are. Traditions may change over time, but they still have a way of connecting us to the people and places that came before us. 

Swedish Fish reminds me that belonging isn't only about looking back. Sometimes it's about discovering that we've been part of the story all along.

Troll Milk

Food and tradition seem to go hand in hand, and for me one of those traditions has always been black licorice.

Growing up, black licorice wasn't a popular sweet where I lived, which only made it feel more special when I found it. When jelly bean season arrived, everyone in my family knew exactly which ones were mine.

My first introduction to Finland's love of black licorice came through a small Finnish shop in Astoria, Oregon. Years ago, I stopped by Finn Ware looking for treats to celebrate Saint Nicholas Day. While browsing the shelves, I found myself standing in front of more black licorice than I had ever seen in one place.

I remember thinking, I have found my people.

In Finland, salty black licorice, known as salmiakki (SAHL-mee-AHK-kee), is more than just candy. It's a bold flavor that has connected generations through shared memories, traditions, and the simple comfort of something familiar.

Maybe that's why it felt so familiar.

Sometimes belonging isn't about becoming someone new. Sometimes it's simply discovering there are other people who have loved the same small things all along.

Salmiakki reminds me that even the most unexpected traditions have a way of bringing us to a feeling of connection to one another.

Volcanic Bloom

The first time I learned that Iceland grows tomatoes year-round, I honestly thought someone was joking.

Tomatoes? In Iceland?

It seemed impossible until I learned they weren't fighting the landscape, they were working with it.

For generations, Icelanders have learned to make the most of what they have. Instead of wishing for a warmer climate, they turned to something that had been beneath their feet all along: geothermal energy. Today, hot water from deep underground heats greenhouses, clean energy powers grow lights through the long winter months, and bumblebees pollinate the flowers.

It wasn't really about tomatoes at all.

It was about a way of thinking.

Maybe the greatest traditions we inherit aren't recipes or family heirlooms. Maybe they're ways of looking at the world. The belief that if you pay attention, work with what you have, and refuse to give up, you'll find possibilities where others only see limitations.

That way of thinking feels familiar here on the northern Oregon Coast. Life along this coastline has never been easy. The weather is wild, the work is demanding, and many of the things we treasure take patience to find or build. Sometimes I wonder if a little of that resilience was carried here by the Nordic families who helped shape this community.

Volcanic Bloom reminds me that we don't always inherit answers. Sometimes we inherit a way of seeing the world.

Why Soap?

For thousands of years, soap has been part of daily life. It has traveled through

generations just as recipes, songs, and stories have. 

Long after we've finished reading a story, we continue reaching for the same bar each morning, afternoon, and evening without giving it much thought. I like the idea that a familiar scent or a simple routine can gently bring us back to something we've almost forgotten.

Maybe it reminds us to slow down.

Maybe it reminds us of home.

Maybe it reminds us that we're part of a tradition we never knew we carried.

Stories have always helped us remember who we are. My hope is that these soaps become small reminders of the stories, traditions, and people that connect us. Something to return to in the ordinary moments of everyday life.

If one of these stories spoke to you, I'd love for you to carry a little piece of it home. The Nordic Collection is now available in our online shop while supplies last.

Shop the Nordic Collection

Thank you for taking this journey with me.

I hope these stories encourage you to notice the traditions that have shaped your own family, community, and sense of home.

Because sometimes the smallest everyday moments are the ones that remind us where we belong.