Finding The Holiday Spirit

Alabama doesn't have winter, but it sure does have incredible sunsets.

I woke up this morning and suddenly, for the first time this year, it felt like the holiday season. I don't know what it was--maybe the grey overcast sky? Or maybe it was that I did some Thanksgiving shopping and preparation yesterday (we're hosting my sister-in-law and her family!). This is the second year we've lived in this crazy, balmy climate, and I've noticed that the weather makes it difficult for me to get into the holiday spirit. Come November, it doesn't feel like Thanksgiving and Christmas are on the horizon. I've been so well programmed to associate these holidays with the crispness and coziness of winter, which we just don't have here.

But when I woke up today, I half expected to see a blanket of snow on the ground, soft flakes falling slowly. I know it was wishful thinking but it was such a pleasant early morning daydream and I had a cozy and familiar feeling as I walked downstairs to make tea. There's something in the air today that's stirring that holiday spirit inside of me--despite the absence of the winter that I love--and I'm grateful for whatever it is.

A Taste Of The Seaside

Our day trip to Seaside, Florida last weekend was so much fun! Seaside is a really sweet beach town and we had a great time exploring. Parts of the town center were a little bit crowded for our taste, but as soon as we walked into the residential area with its winding streets and brightly colored, tastefully constructed beach houses, it felt really private and quiet and peaceful. Here's a taste of Seaside.

It was really fun to walk around Seaside, but I would just love to go back someday and rent one of these adorable houses for a week. You could cook your own food, avoid the restaurant crowds, walk and bike to get around, and just enjoy the Gulf and the local scenery and these cozy little cottages. Doesn't that sound lovely?

A Day Trip To Seaside

Yesterday over breakfast my husband remembered that he has today off from work, and he proposed we take a little trip. Of course I jumped on the idea! There are a few places within fairly close driving distance that we've been wanting to see, and one of them is Seaside, Florida. It's only about two hours due South, it's another one of those fascinating New Urbanist communities, and it just seems like an absolutely adorable, quaint, Florida town (thanks Dad, for the recommendation!).

So we're setting off early this morning to Seaside for a day trip! We plan to go to some antique shops along the way, eat seafood for lunch and dinner, and breathe in the crisp fall air coming off the ocean. Seaside is also known for being a very artistic community so we may pop into one of its many art galleries. And perhaps a bike ride along the beach? We'll have to see how much we can fit into one day.

I hope you have a beautiful weekend!

p.s. Do you recognize the town from this movie?

How Moving Trucks Make Me Feel

We live in an Army town so we see moving trucks on our street all the time. This is a temporary stop, and not many families are here for too long. My husband and I like to take evening walks around the neighborhood and when we spy a moving truck, he looks at me and says, "That will be us in a few months."

Seeing those moving trucks makes me feel a whole lot of things. Here are just a few.


I feel total joy about our future and calm about our slowly shaping plans.

I wonder about the new home we will move into, and I envision the rooms, and the people moving between them.

I feel thankful for the man by my side because I've moved to him and he's moved to me but we've never moved anywhere together, and this is a blessing we've been waiting on for years.

I feel a little sorry for myself (to be quite frank) because our time here was so much longer than we expected, and then I make myself snap out of it because the difficulties of the past year or so will make our new lives in a new state that much sweeter.

I daydream for a minute about living in a place where I can walk to get a cup of coffee or to a park, a place that has snow and lots of culture.

I imagine where our neighbors might be moving to, and hope that they are as filled with excitement and anticipation and happiness as I know I will be when that truck is parked in front of our house.


I can't share where we will move to just yet, and to be honest, we are only about 90% sure ourselves. Things are becoming less complicated all the time but there is still a lot to be sorted out and important news that we're waiting on. And as for when, we don't know that either. (But sooner rather than later, is what we're thinking!)

But these unknowns are nothing compared to the big long unknown that lasted from May 2012 to August 2013. I know what uncertainty is and what it feels like, and this time of anticipation is nothing compared to that. I think God sometimes pushes us a little bit, makes us uncomfortable and challenges us and puts us in predicaments we wouldn't have chosen ourselves, all so that we will learn to rely on Him. And so that we have new gratitude for the times that feel good and right, rich and filled to the brim with living.

Wintry Cravings

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I've been thinking lately about seasons, the changes that come with each one, the way the outside world has a way of seeping in, making us feel something.

I've always thrived on the change of seasons. I loved growing up in Upstate New York because the seasons were so dramatically different from one another. The chill that came over the air in late September, the first snowfall, the airy breath of spring come April. They were each so beautiful and the changes felt so good and wholesome and vital, necessary for time to keep going on.

We've been living for over a year in a place with minor seasonal changes, and while I know many people would appreciate the temperate falls and winters here, I find myself craving and missing the stark contrasts that I grew up with. We've been making our Christmas plans and we will be spending time with both of our families in a place even further south of here, and while it will be delightful and we're looking forward to it, I do find myself feeling a tiny bit sad to spend another Christmas without snow. (Last year, we were in California for Christmas.)

I often feel like I have to defend my love for cold, crisp, snowy winters. I have to explain why they bring me much happiness and peace, and a feeling of coziness. There's the thrill of watching a blizzard rage outside as you sit by the warm fire. The majesty and quiet beauty in waking up to a world covered in white. We got married on December 30 and when, on December 28, big, beautiful flakes of snow began to gently fall, blanketing our quiet village in the freshest of white, welcoming our guests into a fairyland, I felt that the Heavens had given me a precious wedding gift.

I wonder if this is genetic. My Dad definitely understands the things I'm describing. He taught me to love the winter and to enjoy it (we went skiing, sledding, ice skating), to wear layers and bundle up, to breathe in the cold energizing air and notice the loveliness of the sleeping winter landscape. Now, I have such a connection to this under-appreciated season that photos like the one above make me homesick. This wintry entryway kindles such a visceral reaction in me. I can almost feel the chilliness, and my wool sweater around my neck. I can smell the pine trees, and I can sense that Christmas or perhaps Thanksgiving is right around the corner. I crave hot chocolate and I want to fill my lungs with the natural world and then sink into the warmth inside.

Some people might see this image and shiver a little, but I think it's so inviting, peaceful, serene. Something in me responds to it and craves the things it promises.

I may have to wait another year until I get my winter. But perhaps the anticipation will only make it sweeter.

Southern Politeness

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One of the big cultural differences I've noticed between the deep South and the rest of the places I've lived is the level of politeness that exists here. Contrary to the popular stereotypes, it's not that people here are so much nicer--I wouldn't necessarily say it's that drastic a difference--but there is a certain level of respect that passes between strangers that I didn't encounter much when I lived "up North."

For example, I can't tell you how many times I've been called "ma'am." When I was thrift-shopping the other day, the shop owner's daughter (she was probably about 11) was sitting in a chair doing homework, and I said hello and asked her a question, and she didn't hear me at first so she smiled sweetly and said, "Ma'am?" It was so cute. I always feel like I'm too young to be referred to that way, but for Southern children it's the normal way to speak to any grown-up.

I was also surprised when one of my piano students (she is 15) started calling me "Mrs. Kate." Isn't that so endearing? It's actually sort of a perfect solution because I feel too young to go by "Mrs. Harvey" (especially to someone who is only ten years younger than myself--if I'm teaching 6-year-olds, that's a different story) but just "Kate" seems a little casual for a student-teacher relationship. When she first called me "Mrs. Kate" I thought it was so funny and sweet and unusual. Children and young adults are really hesitant to call you by your first name, even if that's how you introduce yourself, so adding a "Miss" or "Mrs" in front of your name is their way of showing respect.

Do any of you have experience with Southern politeness and charm? I'm wondering if this is something I will miss when we move away from here!