I was born and raised in the South, shaped by generations of powerful women who practiced magic as naturally as breathing. The women in my family read cards and palms at kitchen tables worn smooth with stories, cast bones with the same ease they seasoned a pot of beans, caught babies when the doctor didn’t make it in time, and brewed everyday enchantments into food without ever calling it a spell. They believed in signs and strong coffee. They were clairvoyants and dowsers before those words were whispered politely, and were always ready to burn sage—or bridges—whatever the situation demanded.

Now I carry their fire with me at the foot of the Rocky Mountains, weaving their deep-rooted Southern magic into my own rhythms of open green spaces and quiet mountain mornings. My days blend the heritage they handed down—kitchen magic, intuition, grit, and a healthy respect for omens.

This blog is where those worlds meet: ancestral Southern crafts and cottage witchery shaped by mountain air, my warm kitchen, needlework charms, and the everyday magic of a life lived intentionally. Welcome in—pull up a chair, pour something warm, and stay for a spell.