Three Against the World: How Family, Art, and Nature Shaped The Mossy Coast

We recently had the pleasure of sitting down with @humansofcampbellriver to share the story of Mossy Coast—how it started, why we do what we do, and the little threads of life that weave through everything we create. Alongside the interview, we’re sharing some of the beautiful photos captured during our conversation.

PART ONE – Three Against the World

I (Rochelle) grew up in the city of North Delta, the oldest of three. Michaela’s three years younger than me, and our brother came along six years after I did. Our house was always loud, busy, and full of movement. If I had to sum it up, I’d say it felt like the three of us against the world a lot of the time.

Our mom fell in love young. I was just three when she made the hardest decision of her life—to leave. He loved drugs more than us, and he was too far gone. She chose to walk away, and try to build something better for us.

She worked a lot—sometimes too much, but only because she had to. She put herself through business school and did whatever it took to provide for us. Looking back, I see now just how much she carried. But as kids, life was a blur of daycares, school pickups, and hours spent in traffic. It felt chaotic most of the time, but also—normal. That was our rhythm.

Our mom did everything she could to be a good mom. And she was. She gave us stability, made sure we were safe, and sheltered us from the harder parts of her own childhood. She wanted different for us. Better. And we always knew we were loved.

But we also knew how much she wished she could have been home more. That part sticks with me the most now that I’m a mom myself. Michaela and I both feel it in our hearts—how much that absence shaped us. Kids are only kids for such a short time. So we live a little slower now. We traded city traffic for island dirt, and we raise our kids barefoot, feral, and free.

We’ve made big sacrifices to stay home with our little ones—not because it’s easy, but because it matters. We know what it’s like to miss your mom while she’s working hard for you. And we know what it feels like to want something different for your own kids.

That’s really how The Mossy Coast started. It was this mix of love—for art, for family, and for finding a way to be present. We work alongside our kids, let them be part of it all, and hold tight to what matters most.

Family is everything. It always has been.

PART TWO – Art, Nature & Growing Up

Michaela and I were good kids. Sensitive, artistic, and a little quirky—though we didn’t have the language for any of that back then.

I struggled with anxiety and we both struggled with ADHD in different ways. For me, anxiety was like an old friend—it kept me from breaking rules, from pushing too far, from stepping out of line. It was protective in its own way, but exhausting too. It held me back from enjoying the little things. Michaela had severe ADHD and together we had to learn how to navigate those tricky parts of our brains—how to slow things down, how to not feel like we were “too much” or “not enough” all the time.

What grounded us most as kids was creativity and being outside together. Being outside gave us space to breathe, and art gave us a way to express what we didn’t always have words for. It was our shared language.

Girl Guides was really the start of our love for nature. It was where creativity and the outdoors came together for us—where we learned to care for the planet, to explore it, and to protect it.

Growing up Michaela was always winning colouring contests she had this natural way with colour and detail. She’s always been into drawing, and painting.

Meanwhile, I was obsessed with Art Attack on TV. Give me glue, cardboard, and a pile of newspaper and I could entertain myself for hours. Paper mache, clay, and pastel was my thing.

We were really close as kids—classic sisters. Sharing rooms, sharing toys, sharing snacks. But like most sisters, things shifted when we hit our teens. I fell in love at fourteen, and from that point on our lives started to move in different directions. We had our own friend groups, our own routines. We were still in each other’s lives, but in a more parallel way than intertwined.

Even then, though, there was always a thread connecting us. It just stretched a little in those years. It wasn’t until our early twenties that we really came back together. Becoming moms changed everything. Suddenly we weren’t just sisters—we were each other’s lifeline. We were figuring out diapers, sleep schedules, and postpartum emotions all at the same time. And with that came a deep understanding of each other that we hadn’t had before.

Looking back now, I can see how much those early years shaped us. The art, the overthinking, the loyal hearts, the messy rooms, the pulling apart and coming back together

—it was all part of our story.

PART 3- Side by Side

These days, Michaela and I have the kind of relationship I don’t take for granted. We’re not just sisters—we’re neighbours, business partners, co-parents in a way, and best friends. It’s a pretty unique setup.

She and her husband live in a three-bedroom house with their three kids. My husband and I live with our two in an attached suite—just 200 square feet, one room for the kids to share, and our own tiny space that somehow holds it all. We both have our own lives and rhythms, but we also have this beautiful overlap that not many people get to experience.

We open the door and the kids run wild between the homes like a little pack of happy children. And when it gets too loud or too chaotic (which it does), we close the door and everyone resets. It works for us. We’ve been living like this for two years now, and honestly—we love it.

A couple nights a week we throw dinner plans together. “What do you have in your fridge?” has become a full-blown meal plan. We borrow ingredients, babysit in a pinch, and debrief the day over evening stamping sessions for The Mossy Coast. During the day, it’s all about mothering and making memories—adventuring with the kids, working in pockets of time, and figuring things out as we go.

People always ask us how we live and work together. The truth is—I’m not totally sure how we do it either. It just works. But I will say this: communication is everything. Being honest, clear, and open has saved us more times than I can count. Tackling problems before they turn into something bigger is something we’ve learned to take seriously.

There’s a comfort in doing life this way. It’s not just about convenience—it’s about being deeply known. About raising our kids together the way we always wished we could have grown up. About having someone who shows up when you’re overwhelmed, tired, or fresh out of flour. It’s chaotic, close, sometimes messy

—but it’s also full of love!

PART FOUR – How It All Grew

We moved to Vancouver Island in 2007, but I’ve been tied to this place even longer than that. When I was a teenager, I used to spend my summers here in Campbell River with my uncle. I’d hop in his truck and we’d cruise the back roads, windows down, no real plan—just winding through trees, stopping at lakes, soaking up the quiet. I still do that now with my own kids. Camping trips, roadside stops, pulling over just to explore. It’s our way of connecting—to each other and the island.

Michaela’s life here is her own version of that. She’s kind of an adventurous homemaker- which sounds made up, but it’s exactly who she is. You’ll usually find her in the kitchen, baking with the kids or making something from scratch. But come evening, she’s out climbing or heading to pottery class. She finds joy in movement and mess—whether it’s flour or clay or forest trails.

Between the two of us, we have five kids, and several of them have sensory sensitivities. That’s the beginning of our business journey together. We started making homemade playdough for our kids—just something soft and calming to help them focus and reset. And it worked. Eventually, we started selling it at the markets, and it slowly turned into something more.

I started making sensory-friendly jewelry around the same time, mostly just for my own kids. Something they could fidget with that didn’t look like a toy. But I fell in love with the process—and all the artistic possibilities. Shortly after Michaela and I took this three-hour silversmithing class in someone’s backyard studio. It was visual only—no instruction, just watch and take notes. We’ve basically been self-teaching ever since.

That tiny spark grew. Our love for art and nature kept leading us to new ideas. And eventually, all of it came together—our stamping, our jewelry, our playdough, our kids, our connection. That’s how The Mossy Coast was born. It’s messy and handmade and heartfelt. It’s nature driven and Island-grown. It’s something we built with our own hands, side by side.

And it’s still growing.

We love and appreciate this life ❤️🌿

Love

Rochelle + Michaela