Good- Bye Florida Flip Flops

Heading Home: Goodbye Florida Flip-Flops, Hello Burlington Garden Gloves!

Well, the flip-flop fairytale is officially over — it’s time to pack up my beach bag, say goodbye to Florida’s sunshine (and my margarita glass), and head back north to the land of proper seasons, random snowstorms, and a Timmy’s on every corner— Canada.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my Florida life. There’s something magical about spending four months where the most stressful decision is pool or beach? But here’s the thing — no matter how much fun I have, Florida always feels like a very long, slightly boozy vacation. I do love all the fun and my Florida girls…but it is my sunshine fling. Canada is my home – messy, cozy and full of projects waiting for me!

No Renos? Is This Even My House?

For the first time in forever, I’m actually coming home to a house that isn’t actively being torn apart, rebuilt, or swarmed with contractors who all seem to need me to “just take a quick look at something.” This year, Fairwood Forest (yes, I named the house — more on that in a minute) will actually be clean when I walk in. Not a speck of drywall dust in sight. I might cry – happy tears!

Spring Fever: Canadian Edition

There’s something about spring that flips a switch in me — suddenly, I want to declutter, reorganize, plant things, and act like I’m one with nature. Last year, I started a little garden — just a few plants to see if I could keep something alive that doesn’t bark or ask for snacks. This year, I’m going all in — more plants, more flowers, and probably more confusion when I forget what I planted where.

We’re also upgrading the deck railing — trading the tired old wood for sleek black metal, which I’m told will look “modern and chic.” All I know is, someone else is doing it, so it’s automatically a win in my books. And then there’s the patio stone project, which has been on the list since the moment I bought the house. Those stones have been there since the beginning of time. I don’t need anything fancy…. Just a refresh…wait….didn’t I literally just write about crying happy tears because there are no renovations being done? 🤦‍♀️

DIY Dreams (And Probably a Few Regrets)

Of course, there’s always a little DIY magic (and chaos) waiting for me at home. Last fall I found a gorgeous king-sized headboard on FB Marketplace, that’s just begging for a makeover. The plan? Sand it down and see if the wood’s pretty enough to go au naturel — and if not, well, there’s nothing a little paint (and mild panic) can’t fix.

The basement is also calling my name. It’s the perfect hangout spot when the girls sleep over — and Tank and I have officially claimed it for our Sunday afternoon chick flick marathons It is my ‘she’ cave complete with sliding doors to the backyard, Tank can have his sunbathing time, and I get to keep an eye out for any surprise coyote visitors (because nothing says ‘relaxing afternoon’ like sudden wildlife surveillance).

Why Do We Name Our Homes?

Speaking of Fairwood Forest — yes Steve, I named the house, and no, I’m not even a little bit embarrassed about it. There’s just something about giving your home a name that makes it feel more personal — like it’s not just four walls and a mortgage, but a character in your life story. Maybe it’s a throwback to old English estates with names like Rosewood Manor or Puddlewick Cottage (I think I’d like to visit Puddlewick Cottage lol). Or maybe it’s just because saying “I’m heading back to Fairwood Forest” sounds a whole lot more romantic than “I’m going home to fold laundry.” Either way, it makes me smile — and at the end of the day, that’s reason enough for me.

Home Sweet (Named) Home

So, while Florida will always be my sunshine escape, Canada — Fairwood Forest — is home. It’s where my roots are (both literal and emotional), and where I can spend my days sanding, planting, rearranging furniture, and chasing Tank through the forest. It’s my place, my mess, my joy — and that’s exactly how I like it.

Here’s to spring projects, garden adventures, and embracing the chaos of home sweet home — whatever you call it.