Clarkston CBD Co.

01/16/2026

This little puppy is missing from the Peola Road area. He's now 11 weeks old. Have you seen him? If so, please send us a message or call 208-743-3157.

12/31/2025

Motherhood has a way of reshaping you quietly—before you even realize it’s happening.

I’m learning that I can love this season deeply and still grieve the versions of myself that came before it. The independent woman. The achiever. The one who could push through discomfort and keep going. She didn’t disappear—but she did change.

Some days, anxiety makes that shift feel heavy. Like I’m losing parts of myself instead of expanding. But other days, I see it more clearly.

I’m not becoming less of who I was.
I’m becoming more—just differently.

Slower. Softer. More aware of my limits.
More present. More human.

I’m learning that strength now looks like resting.
That productivity doesn’t define my worth.
That being “enough” doesn’t require proving anything at all.

I’m still finding my footing in this new identity—
as a mother, a partner, a woman in transition.

And maybe that’s exactly where I’m meant to be.

✨ If you’re navigating a shift in who you are—or who you’re becoming—I’d love to hear what that’s looked like for you. ✨

12/29/2025

Overwhelming anxiety.
It’s labeled Generalized Anxiety Disorder in my medical chart, but that label barely scratches the surface of what it looks like for me.

Mine is multifaceted—confusing and deeply frustrating. It has peaks and valleys, but mostly peaks. The “good” days are the ones where the tightness in my chest only shows up once. My anxiety doesn’t really take days off. It’s consistent in that way.

I use the tools. I try the tricks. But when I become overstimulated, it turns into pure chaos in my body.

Christmas Eve and Christmas Day were especially hard. I wanted—so badly—to fully take in every moment of my first Christmas as a mom. And I did enjoy moments. Truly. But I was short with my husband. I felt rushed everywhere we went. I didn’t slow down when my body was begging me to rest.

Right now, I’m in that overstimulated, high-anxiety space. Where I have a million and one things to do—and no energy or capacity to do any of them.

So for now, I take an anxiety pill. I pray it kicks in—and actually works. I sit in a tiny plush strawberry meant for children, facing what will eventually be my new view, and I just… pause.

Some seasons aren’t about fixing or finishing.
They’re about surviving what’s loud inside your body.

More soon.

12/22/2025

Another soul lost to the cruel trick of brain chemistry—
the lie that tells us there is no way out.
Depression doesn’t strike all at once.
It takes.
And takes.
Until one day, there’s nothing left to give.

I know that place.
I know it too well.
I’ve stood there more times than I can count.

Even when I’m on solid ground—
even when I’m in the sand (I’ll explain that someday)—
I know it’s there.
Waiting.
Ready to pull me under on any random moment of any ordinary day.

So I gather joy fiercely on the good days.
I hold it tight.
I wring it dry.

Do I live in fear every single day?
Yes.
Because I am never fully free.

It waits.
Patient.
Relentless.

And still—somehow—I’ve always had just enough to hold on.
Enough breath.
Enough light.
Enough reason.

I won’t pretend the fear of letting go doesn’t exist.
It does.
It whispers.
It lingers.

This life—
one I know I do not live alone.
Millions walk this same invisible battlefield.

I pray for peace.
For your soul.
For mine.

There is a reason I am still here.
I believe that with everything in me.
Now I just have to learn how to turn my pain into something beautiful.
Something heard.
Something that helps even one person hold on a little longer.

I don’t believe I’m still here fighting the devil
if it’s only for me.
It has to be for something more.



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12/13/2025

IVF: Part 1

It starts quietly.
A door opening.
A name called.
A room that smells like hope and antiseptic.
And suddenly you’re sitting across from a doctor
who will learn more about your body
than most people ever will.

The first appointment is supposed to feel like a beginning—
and it is.
But it’s also a test of breath,
of courage,
of trust in science and in yourself.

Bloodwork first.
Vials filling with the story you cannot yet tell in words.
Hormones measured like weather patterns—
FSH, AMH—
numbers you pray rise like a good sunrise.
The ultrasound follows,
cold gel, warm hands,
eyes fixed on a grainy black-and-white universe.
Counting follicles like tiny chances,
each one a flicker of possibility.
Please be many, you think.
Please be enough.

Then you meet the embryologist—
the keeper of the microscopic future—
and you nod along
as they explain fertilization, grading, growth,
the fragile miracle of dividing cells.
Each detail lands somewhere between awe and fear.

And then comes the financial coordinator.
The part no one writes poems about.
The part that steals some of the sunlight.
Numbers on a page,
costs that could rival cars, homes, entire dreams.
You stare at the totals
and something inside you whispers,
Is parenthood really this far out of reach?

Because IVF isn’t just medical—
it’s multifaceted, layered, relentless.
It’s science, timing, biology…
and bills.
So many bills.
And the chances?
Not even promises—
just percentages.
40–50% if you’re under 35.
20–25% once you hit 38.
Statistics that sit heavy on the drive home,
pressing into the quiet between you and your partner.

So you do what hope-hungry people do:
You dream anyway.
Of a life where money doesn’t matter.
Where statistics never shrink joy.
Where the odds tilt in your favor
because they simply must.

You know neither reality is true—
not the fantasy of unlimited resources,
nor the myth of 100% certainty.
But you dream them just the same.

And that—
that dreaming—
is IVF.
Hard.
Costly.
Heart-stretching.
And this?
This was only
the very first appointment.



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12/12/2025

Today, I had one of those rare moments where everything slows down just enough for gratitude to catch up with me. In my family, we have this little group text—our own chaotic, cozy corner of the world—where we trade memes, TikToks, recipes, and snapshots of the tiny humans we’re all raising together.

This morning, my mom sent a video. Just cousins—ages five to seven months—happy, engaged, discovering each other, already learning what it means to belong. All healthy. All adored. And in that instant, I felt this wave of joy wash over me. The kind that hits so hard it almost steals your breath.

I realized: I have my tribe. And these babies… they’re building theirs too. Cousins, yes—but also future best friends, confidants, co-conspirators in all things silly and sacred.

I didn’t grow up with that. As a teen, I remember feeling the ache of it—knowing something was missing and not being able to name it. But look at us now. We’re doing it. We are quietly, intentionally rewriting what family looks like. We’re healing something we never had by giving it to our children.

Kind of wild how a simple 30-second video can hold that much meaning.

My hope is that they always carry one another through this beautiful, chaotic, sometimes stressful world. That they grow up knowing that life really is better—and easier, and richer—with people you love deeply and can always count on.

And that this tribe we’ve built becomes one of the greatest gifts we ever give them.

Follow and share for more!

12/10/2025

Time for a real intro. So here goes!

Welcome to Cultivating Life with Marie — a space grown from truth, tenderness, and the wild, tangled beauty of being human.

I’m Marie.
A mother made through the miracles of IVF and surrogacy.
A gardener who finds healing in the quiet bloom of dahlias.
A woman navigating the crashing waves of depression and anxiety, learning—again and again—how to rise for the sunlight.

This is my place to share it all:
the joy, the grit, the mess, the growth, the doubt, the hope, and every in-between moment that shapes a real, imperfect life.

Here, vulnerability isn’t something to hide.
It’s something to cultivate.

I show up with raw honesty and an open heart, believing deeply that there is strength in being seen—and peace in seeing one another. My promise is that you’ll find no judgment here. Only acceptance. Only truth. Only the gentle reminder that none of us are alone in our becoming.

So follow along.
Walk with me through the gardens, the milestones, the heartbreaks, the small miracles, and the quiet victories.
Together, we’ll grow something real.

Welcome to a life being cultivated—one honest story at a time.

Like and follow along!

03/31/2025

03/09/2025

Selling a home? You need a real estate agent who understands the market and has the dedication to get it done right. That’s where I come in. With 30 years of experience, I work tirelessly to help my clients succeed. Let’s chat!
📞 208-791-6168 📧 leonard@leonardsells.com

03/05/2025

11/28/2024

Well it's official, we’ve closed our doors. This decision wasn’t an easy one, and it comes at a time when gratitude feels bittersweet. As we reflect on what we’re thankful for this season, we’re also mourning the loss of what we’ve built together.

The challenges we’ve faced—many of them beyond our control—have made it impossible for us to continue pursuing the passion that brought us here. But even in this difficult moment, we’re overwhelmed with gratitude for the journey we’ve had with you.

For the past five years, you’ve been our reason to strive for excellence. Your loyalty, kind words, and countless success stories have fueled us through every challenge. Your glowing reviews and heartfelt feedback weren’t just words—they were the foundation of everything we accomplished. Knowing we made a difference in your lives is something we will always carry with us.

As we celebrate this Thanksgiving, we want you to know how thankful we are for you. For the support, the trust, and the connections we’ve shared. You’re more than customers—you’re family.

From the bottom of our hearts, thank you for allowing us to be part of your lives. This chapter might be ending, but the memories and impact will remain with us forever.

Wishing you a warm, love-filled Thanksgiving surrounded by the people who matter most.

Clarkston CBD Company

11/27/2024

**TIME IS RUNNING OUT** Today is our last day. Come by to say goodbye and get the last of our inventory at the best prices we've ever had. **Inventory is limited and first come first serve**