
Homemaking, more or less
Real life from a real house. Gathering, cozy corners and the little things that make people want to stay. Results may vary. Fun strongly encouraged.

We put a swing in our house.
Adults are just children waiting for permission.
Yes, there is a swing in our great room. Actually, there are swings. They get used by the little kids, the teenagers and, yes, me, dress and all. Adults are just children waiting for permission, and around here, permission is granted.
Watch the reelLittle things, big difference.

Every corner gets a story
Every corner in our house is telling a story, and most of them are about people we love. There’s a table Beau built, a bench made from a friend’s barn wood, pottery Beau and the kids made, and paintings from my grandmothers. If it looks a little collected and a little imperfect, that’s on purpose. Mostly.

Grandma’s roadside table
This little table used to sit at the end of my grandma’s kitchen island, back at the citrus grove, with her microwave parked right on top. I always told her how beautiful I thought it was, and she’d say, “That piece of junk? I picked it up off the side of the road.” When she passed away, I asked if I could bring it home. It’s still one of my very favorite pieces. Some of the best things in life are roadside finds, especially when someone you love found them first.

The long table
Good company beats a clean house every time. Around here, having people over looks like a lamp already glowing, music in the kitchen, candles on the table and the door wide open. I miss the days of stopping by. Come as you are, and I’ll make us some cider.

Gilded frames, thrifted art
My decorating test is simple: would the March family have it in their house in Little Women? Old paintings, gilded frames, hand-forged iron and aged brass candlesticks all pass. Bonus points if it has a story, a little character, or a tiny creature that snuffs out candles.

Pull up a chair.
Every so often I’ll write you a letter. A recipe, a tradition we’re trying, whatever magic (or glorious mess) happened at our table that week. No lectures, nothing salesy, just a friend waving from the porch.
You’re in! Your seat on the porch is saved. Watch your inbox for a letter from Moxhaven.