Chapter 1: The Early Years

My creative endeavors came very early in life. I was always an artsy, nature-loving kid with a big imagination and bigger feelings- coming up with dances, musicals, sitting on the front steps letting dragonflies land on me while singing old songs I’m unsure of where I learned, writing stories and poems. I danced before I walked. I’d build fairy lands out of moss in the sand box and cover my siblings in mud and swamp cabbage leaves so they could be free to go live in the woods (which my mother loved seeing upon coming home from a long day of work).

Conservation and sustainability weren’t big buzz words when I was growing up, but they were key values instilled in me as a child. I grew up in a green home in the 90s because of my immigrant-contractor father who remodeled our home using materials sourced from dumpsters (1st gen kids know our parents are the original sustainable living pros- have they ever thrown anything away?). He built a nature science center restoring a pond and creating accessible trails for science classes at my elementary school- I helped him clear brush and pull logs around. My flower-child-mother who wanted to protect forests in town from developments taught me at a young age that the trees were alive and I could hear them whisper if I sat quietly in the woods behind the house (I’m sure a ploy for silence and an empty house but sweet nonetheless). I worked with her for our local land trust through my teenage years helping with fundraising events and acting as the bridge to my middle school and high school to have the schools engaged in their efforts.

I began working as a musician, songwriter, and educator in my teens to help pay my way through college. And now, several decades later, I’m largely still doing the same with my creativity- writing, performing, making beauty. These creative outputs are largely fueled and influenced by my experiences with connections and my despair for the world around me, born from care.

In college, I studied at the University of Buenos Aires to write my senior thesis project on Argentine Tango and its cultural role in politics, society, and the queer community. From this seemingly random niche, my first career out of school was as a professional ballroom dancer and dance educator. I worked for traditional studios and ran after school programs for a variety of schools in Hartford and San Diego as well as for the arts center at Wesleyan.

Chapter 2: The California Years & Cori-ography Dance

Then, the first official iteration of my brand was born when I opened my first brick and mortar arts education, entertainment and events business in California- ‘Cori-ography Dance’. It was a boutique partner dance studio that focused on teaching couples, communities and families the art of kinetic connection through dance- my specialty and niche. My teaching style and ethos became so popular that I was the top boutique wedding dance studio in the city. My mission was making dance accessible to everyone through non-traditional teaching; helping people connect emotionally and physically through dance; helping folks be better communicators, community members, and partners; proving to myself that I could find financial stability in the arts; bringing people joy; and supporting queer weddings. I was the proud owner of Cori-ography Dance for 10 years in California and loved teaching and mentoring other teachers. Had it not been for a global pandemic, who knows if I would still be in the Southern California wedding, entertainment and arts industry.

Chapter 3: A global pandemic, an adventure in sustainable living, & the shift to my umbrella brand: Cori-ography

When COVID-19 first broke out and changed so many of our lives, it certainly changed mine as well. Between shut downs, event closures, cost of living in Southern California being exponentially impacted, and my own health becoming compromised, I was unsure what lay ahead for me… but amid the chaos and fear and destruction, the pandemic forced me to do some major pivoting and spurred on some magical and big life changes that have brought me to this current iteration of my professional work and brand.

The perfect storm that was the pandemic sent my partner and I on an adventure and started the most unexpected of new chapters. Maybe it was fate, maybe it was the millenial urge to Zillow non-stop to attempt finding anything anywhere that was decent and made me feel like maybe I could actually afford housing and not have to move in yet another year when the landlord jacked the rent up.

Whatever it was, long story short (but the long story has some fun parts like a wedding that was supposed to happen the day of shut down followed by having to drive cross country 3 times in 3 months in a Prius with a large dog and all our crap):

I ended up finding myself back in Connecticut as the owner of an estate…? (A sentence with 2 parts I truly never thought I would say and that comes with many internal interrogations + discomforts about what it means to be in this position now)

When life hands you a pandemic and shuts down your career, the next logical move obviously is to buy an island (yes, this is literal- we are surrounded by water on 4 sides and have to cross bridges) just outside of Hartford, CT in a rapidly developing area complete with: forests; riparian corridors; a house where a gristmill used to stand but where no one knows the history of how said house came to be; and a guest cottage on a hillside above a brook.

The word ‘estate’ suggests that we had means…haha, no. A series of circumstances and the universe conspiring landed us here at our now home that we lovingly call Old Mill Eco Island.

Those circumstances included some really practical things like the no other interest in the property and probably poor marketing for the listing. Also, apparently not too many people look at not one but two historical bridges and houses and think, ‘I totally want to deal with this.’ Among those circumstances was also a lot-o’ bit of survival instinct in overdrive amidst quarantining and shut downs and the desperation to find somewhere we could afford to live because we had rapidly been priced out of our city and our jobs were not coming back anytime soon.

We could not get a mortgage for even a starter condo in San Diego and we had moved every other year the past 6 years when landlords would jack up the rent or decide they were selling. We knew if we were displaced again, while our industries were so shaky even when things reopened, we’d be basically screwed. As it was, we had each been working full time on completely opposite schedules in our service industries just to be able to afford to live and our quality of life kind of sucked. The math was mathing when it came to questions of how to live, what to do next, and how to improve our quality of life. The cost of our mortgage would be the literal exact amount of what our rent cost in our 700 sf bungalow…and while Airbnb is problematic as hell, this place had a guest house that we could actually generate an income with to make our way through the changing world during the pandemic and where our family could stay with us when they came. We figured, if we’re going to survive a pandemic and probably eventually a global systems collapse, a literal island with some peace and quiet sounded like a decent plan.

Lastly, some may not believe in fate, but, the timing and the universe just seemed to be on our side. We first came to see it because I was just curious/bored/panicked about the future while hunkering down with my parents a few months into COVID. I genuinely didn’t think we could ever afford a home but I usually dare to dream. When we came, we took maybe 3 steps onto the first bridge- hadn’t even seen the houses yet- when a little river otter swam towards me and that was it. I felt it in my bones that we had to come here. I know it sounds woo, but the connection and care we feel to the land here feels like the way a grandmother and grandchild love each other. It feels ancient and deep. After that, I just kind of said to myself and the universe (mostly to protect myself from heartbreak) that if it’s meant to meant to be, it’ll be. But I truly felt like this place had called me home. It was an uphill battle, but the pieces did just keep appearing when they were needed.

And so, we packed up our life and moved here. As first time homeowners, it was safe to say we knew we were signing up for a labor of love and a passion project. And it truly, truly is both of those things. Without love and passion, there would never be enough fuel in the tank to keep going on this somewhat insane adventure. But where I lack other resources or skill, love and passion I have in abundance.

It took community- particularly our family members and friends- whether by resources, knowledge, or skills; the systemic privileges needed to access debt (and debt sucks but everything is burning so, yolo); and our own backgrounds, abilities, resourcefulness, creativity, LOTS of elbow grease and a little bit of insanity and penchant for imagining what could be to get us here and this far into this journey of stewarding, repairing, restoring, conserving, remodeling, etc.

I named our home here Old Mill Eco Island. Old Mill because the island is the historical site of where a gristmill used to stand and is complete with remnants of the mill and historical bridges, stonework, and a dam. And ‘eco island’ because while my life has always been a practice of sustainable living, all the projects, goals, and undertakings here on the land have been a complete adventure on a fairly grand scale in demonstrating in a very tangible way all of my knowledge and commitment to sustainability. Everything we do here is with the land and her needs at the front of that lens. A way of living I think is more achievable than folks believe.

My goals for this place we call home are:

• to care for nature first by restoring native ecosystems, protecting and conserving the space, and putting stewardship principles into practice and establishing a nature sanctuary;

• to educate and inspire others through the beauty that is possible when living sustainably with tours, workshops, and online resources to embrace more sustainability in their own lives and hopefully give people more tools and awareness on how to do so;

• to support my immediate community in becoming more aware of the importance of the ecology in our own town and their role to play in it by establishing The Bloomfield Native Seed + Plant Bank using the gardens here;

• to create beautiful, intentional, comfortable spaces we call home that allow my creativity to stretch itself with sustainable design by remodeling using repurposed materials and practices to minimize their ecological footprints;

• and to share these spaces through the rental of the guest house, Otter Falls Inn, as well as events and hospitality so others can learn, be inspired and do the same for themselves, and connect with nature, each other and themselves in this magical place.

Nearly 5 years into this crazy adventure of pulling threads here we’ve done a lot with the land, for our home. Sometimes intentionally and to plan, other times because it demanded it get the love and passion and respect it required from us. I’ve dedicated most of the past 5 years to this place- learning it and listening to it, restoring, conserving and caring for it, practicing creating beauty, efficiency, human comfort while being a part of nature rather than imposing upon it. Trying to navigate how to share it within the social constructs we’re working with. And helping and hoping for others to do the same, educating, consulting, and still playing music and writing.

It has not been all rainbows and butterflies (our monarch population has doubled each year so far tho!). It’s been extremely stressful at times- like living for a winter or two without any heating because everything was backordered during the pandemic or doing some mega projects on a shoestring budget and narrowly avoiding divorce or mariticide in just about every renovation project my partner and I do together (specifically wallpapering, tiling, and masonry are on his now no-fly list).

BUT… it has also been totally magical, an adventure for the ages, and I wouldn’t trade this labor of love for anything.