Evergreen Moose was born from some of the deepest losses of my life.
The first was my mom. She was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, and within four months she was gone… from her physical body. As I was flooded with grief, I began to notice signs, and I felt strongly that they were her.
One of the strongest came about three months after she passed. A few days before my birthday, I was talking with my wife, Tina, about it being the first year I wouldn’t have a cake from my mom. Funfetti cake, simple. She always gave me a hard time about how boring it was. As we were talking, a hummingbird flew in between us, looked at me, then at Tina, then at me again, and flew off. In that moment I told Tina that was mom. On my birthday, my friend g showed up with the funfetti cake my mom always made. That friend is our earth angel. My mom was telling me she’s got this, and sure enough, she did.
The next big loss was my brother-in-law, Anthony. This one was different. Unexpected, with zero knowing. He was traveling for work when he had a brain aneurysm, and he never came out of his coma. Like that, at 27 years old, he was gone… from his physical body.
My sister is one of the strongest people I know. She lost two of her best friends, our mom and her husband, in a matter of two years. The grief was heavy, and time stood still while the world moved on. Anthony’s signs are dragonflies, eagles, and dimes. Every trip I have taken this year, an eagle has flown over, landed, and stayed. I know it is Anthony, and I can still feel his love through his soul.
On December 13, 2023, we had to say goodbye to our beloved pup, PJ. He had an aggressive cancer and we lost him within a few weeks. He wasn’t just our pet. He was our sweet boy, the joy, our comfort, our everyday reminder that love doesn’t need words. He was our soul dog. We often called him our hippy dog because he was just so chill. He was the first pup Tina and I got together. I felt like I had been punched in the stomach with another loss.
PJ sends us bluebirds, and every time it feels like he is near.
Then came the continued heartbreak of saying goodbye to our other beloved fur babies, KoKo, Cubbie, and Wolfie, all with signs of their own to help us feel them close by and always with us.
Each loss has reshaped my world. Through them, I learned the importance of slowing down, listening deeply, and finding comfort in the quiet strength of nature and connection. The grief was overwhelming, but in that pain, something quietly took root.
I found myself walking a trail in Lory State Park. The trees were still. The light filtered through the branches like whispers of comfort. I wasn’t looking for anything. I just needed to breathe. But those quiet moments started bringing a new kind of peace. Each walk helped. Each step gave space for sorrow, and eventually, for hope.
I didn’t have a name for what was happening to me. Later I learned it was called Shinrin-yoku, or forest bathing, and that what the trees were doing for me was something I could learn to offer other people. I went on to train as a certified forest therapy guide.
That’s when Evergreen Moose began to take shape. Not just as a name, but as a purpose.
I started creating custom pet memorial pieces, the kind of pieces that would have comforted me when we lost PJ. I wanted to use my gift of creativity to help others heal. Wood ornaments, coasters, keepsakes, all created to hold memories close and let love linger.
Over time, that work has blended creativity and connection. Evergreen Moose is about community and slowing down to connect with nature. It’s about honoring every season of life, joyful or hard. Whether through guided forest bathing experiences or handcrafted keepsakes, my mission is to create meaningful ways to connect, heal, and celebrate the stories that shape us.
Through grief, creativity gave me hope. Through nature, I found healing. Through Evergreen Moose, I hope to pass that on to you.
It’s about the signs we feel after loss. The hummingbird outside your window. The dragonfly that lingers. The bluebird on a trail. The dime on the sidewalk at the exact moment you needed it.
I see them often, and they remind me that love does not leave. It just changes form.
Whether you’re honoring a loved one or celebrating the simple moments, I hope our creations and experiences bring a bit of peace, a bit of joy, and remind you that love always finds a way to stay.
Keep watching for your signs. And when you are ready to slow down, come walk with me.
With love and gratitude,
Kris
Founder of Evergreen Moose