Southern Charm Up North: Tales of a Maine Magnolia

12/27/2025

It’s funny how things change — even in a place you’ve known your entire life.
Some changes feel good. Others… maybe not so much.

I took a much-needed walk today and found myself downtown in Salisbury. I was born here, so it will always be home.

The house where I once made Christmas trees out of Reader’s Digest magazines with my grandmother still stands. The church. My dad’s house. The park. And College Barbecue, where I’ll forever swear you can find the best hot dogs anywhere.

And then there are the places — and faces — I miss.

That’s all part of life, I suppose. Today, I’m grateful for the green space downtown… for a bench, a little quiet, and a moment to sit still and remember.

Today, I’m thankful for the remembering — and for the chance to sit with it awhile.

12/25/2025

And just like that… it’s Christmas Eve and the AC is on.
Last week it was 20 degrees, and now I’m sweating like it’s July.

I miss Maine — the kind of cold that makes sense.
Cold that smells like woodsmoke and snow.
Cold that puts people closer together instead of farther apart.

Christmas just hits different when you need a sweater,
when the fireplace earns its keep,
and when winter wraps everything in quiet.

I’ll take the chill over the thermostat wars any day.
Missing Maine a little extra tonight. 🎄❄️

12/24/2025

Christmas looks a little different for us this year—and that’s okay.
While divorce is never optimal, I count my blessings deeply. My ex-husband and I have a strong, respectful relationship, we’re both closely tied to our kids, and we’ve all managed to understand one another and get along—significant others included. That kind of peace is a gift.

Tomorrow morning, my kids will arrive. We’ll do Santa a little early, coffee in hand and wrapping paper everywhere, then head to North Carolina to spend time with my family. And on the 30th, my son and his girlfriend, Ricky’s granddaughter and her fiancé, and the two of us will head up to Maine to ring in the New Year—something I’m looking forward to more than I can say.

So if your Christmas looks traditional, beautiful.
If it looks stitched together in a new way, beautiful too.

No matter what yours looks like or who you’re spending it with, I hope it’s meaningful, warm, and full of grace.

Merry Christmas 🤍🎄

12/22/2025

What is it about grands that makes life so happy?
I don’t have any officially of my own yet, but I married Ricky and was lucky enough to inherit some of the very best. Turns out love doesn’t care how it shows up.

This has to be one of my favorite gifts of the season. Every morning, coffee in hand, I catch those smiles looking back at me — and before the day even starts, my heart’s already full.

If joy had a mug, this would be it. 🤍☕️

Bring it on Monday! We’ve got this…

12/22/2025

HELP!! Ok Maine friends! Our kids are coming for the first time and want to snow mobile. Where is the best place from Stockton Springs?

12/21/2025

12/21/2025

Cullman AL

12/21/2025

Maine Magnolia 🍃 | From the Pot to the Heart

There’s something about soup in the winter that feels like an act of faith.
You chop. You stir. You wait.
And somehow, something simple becomes enough.

Tonight it’s Tuscan kale soup—the kind that doesn’t shout, but settles in. Onion and garlic softening in olive oil. Beans doing the quiet work of making things hearty. Kale standing strong, because that’s what it does. A squeeze of lemon at the end, because even in the coldest months, brightness matters.

It’s funny how a Tuscan recipe feels right here in Maine or Mississippi. Maybe it’s the way both places understand winter—how food isn’t about flash, but about warmth and nourishment and gathering whoever happens to wander into the kitchen.

This is the soup you make when the wind is loud, the days are short, and you need something steady on the stove. Serve it with crusty bread, a drizzle of good olive oil, and the reminder that comfort doesn’t have to be complicated.

Tuscan Kale Soup (Simple & Soul-Warming)
Olive oil, onion, garlic, carrots, celery, thyme, oregano, broth, cannellini beans, Tuscan kale, lemon, salt & pepper.
Simmer. Add kale. Finish with lemon. Eat slowly.

From my Southern roots to my Maine kitchen—this one feels like home in a bowl. 🤍

Full recipe in comments!

12/21/2025

Wordle 1,645 3/6

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12/20/2025

I’ve always said I’m not smart enough to work at Waffle House.

There are five guarantees in life:
Death. Taxes.
Someone acting up in the parking lot.
A cook running six grills at once without blinking.
And Waffle House being open no matter what.

Hurricane? Open.
Blizzard? Open.
End of days? Lights on. Coffee hot.

And let’s talk about those cooks - and memorizing a whole secret code system where the placement of an egg tells a story.
Egg here means this.
Hash browns there mean that.
No tickets. No notes. Just vibes, muscle memory, and pure genius.

That grill is basically NASA.
Those cooks are engineers.
And I’ll just be over here at 2:37 a.m., questioning my life choices, respectfully eating my scattered, smothered, and covered…
in absolute awe. 🧇🍳☕️

12/18/2025

Something about this time of year just makes me feel extra crafty and creative. I love those things anytime, but during the holidays the inspiration just seems to overflow.

This year I’m making ornaments - some for our own tree, and some to give to my kids so they can start their own. I love the idea of them hanging ornaments one day that already carry a story, a memory, a little piece of home.

I’ve never been a big “theme tree” person. Our tree is full of ornaments made by little hands in preschool and kindergarten, ones that are a little crooked and heavy on the glue. Mixed in are ornaments we’ve collected on adventures and trips - reminders of places we’ve been and moments we don’t want to forget.

Maybe that’s what I love most about this season. It reminds me that the best decorations aren’t perfect or trendy. They’re worn, handmade, a little mismatched, and full of stories.

Turns out, the best ornaments are the ones that already know your story. 🌲✨