Katie is a Wisconsin girl at heart who strives to paint with her words, illustrating a soulful connection with nature and inclusive outdoor adventure. She was diagnosed with SMA Type II during toddlerhood. With a background in human development and family studies, she finds fulfillment in encouraging others to embrace their distinctive beauty. When she’s not engaging in advocacy or writing, you’ll likely find her hiking an accessible trail, adoring a sunset, or eating a s’more somewhere. She has three companions who hold her heart — two of which travel by paws (the other has human feet). Follow her story on Instagram @wheelprintsalongthewildflowers.
I don’t prefer the phrase “disabled person.” It isn’t a go-to accessory item regularly pulled from my colorful closet of self-descriptors. Before we go any further, let me assure you: If you describe yourself in this way, I’m wholly accepting of you and your perspective. I welcome your thoughts; I…
They congregated on a beach in the mild November air. More than 50 of them stood there, wondering if they dare dip their feet into the water or remain lounging on soft sand. Not a mask in sight; not an inkling of social distancing. I suppose when you’re a goose,…
Today is thought to be my sweet beagle’s 11th birthday. Even if it’s not her actual birthday, it’s still her unbirthday — and to any fan of imaginative literature, an unbirthday is a worthy touchstone of celebration in its own right. Our beagle, Eva, was a rescue. When my partner,…
I’ve been grieving this month. On some days, the weather was impeccable. Morning dew twinkled on silk linens of freshly spun spiderwebs. The air smelled of sun-crisped leaves dipped in salted caramel. Other days were filmed in grayscale. Winds howled through my window frames. Ragged clouds hung in the sky,…
Come, sit beside me at my campfire. How about some apple cider or hot cocoa on this crisp autumn night? It’ll warm your bones. Help yourself to a s’more. I haven’t yet figured out a pumpkin spice recipe, but my maple version is some kind of dynamite. Would you…
On my writing desk sits a narwhal. Not an actual narwhal from arctic waters. That would be absurd. It’s a stout piece of pottery I painted alongside my niece last winter. We sat together at a creative clay studio, sharing paintbrush swirls and rainbow palettes and giggles.
It’s late August. The songs written by crickets in May have been arranged into full summer soundtracks, playing on loops of background music from dawn to dusk and moonrise to moonset. The aroma of sun-baked leaves swirls about golden afternoons. By now, that usually means my outdoor patio…
As we drove into the parking lot adjacent to a tried and true trailhead, the hollow moon had climbed into the bluest corner of the sky. Drifting thunderheads were perched atop the distant tree line like pensive giants. “Beautiful day for a hike,” I said to my companion,…
Many of my friends with disabilities have been posting about the 30th birthday of a well-known gem, the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA), which was signed into law on July 26, 1990. This milestone has generated a furnace of emotion, prompting all manner of incredible perspectives. I’ve read posts…
Have I ever told you that my significant other, Andy, has Becker muscular dystrophy (BMD)? Or that we met as kids at MDA Summer Camp? We did, indeed. Our hometowns sat about a two-hour drive apart. We stayed connected and remained friends throughout our teenage years but never…
