A few vintages ago...

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A few vintages ago….I was a new mother, full of what can only be described as Momma-Lust for her brand new firstborn. Facebook was a fledgling and all the rage, but I wanted nothing to do with sharing what I ate for dinner. I knew nothing of the blogging world… I simply wanted to share my love for my home and my baby. I was on fire! As if no one in the history of the world had ever had a baby to care for and a home to tend to!

With my heart pounding, I created a “dot blogspot dot com” page called “Parisienne Farmgirl”.

I felt this name summed me up pretty dang good. -From farming stock and proud to have soil permanently embedded under my (sometimes well-manicured) fingernails AND full-on in love with Paris.

With the “ienne” feminine spelling, of course.

Blogging back then was super fun (aside from the horrid, caddy women who forgot to graduate from high school) our blogs played music, had running inside jokes, blog hops, and more. We had sidebar lists of our favorite blogs and I met some amazing people. We were a little tribe back then… it's where so many of us started; from Sharon Santoni to Cat in France. Yes, those were the good old days of “Bonjour Madame” and Côte de Texas. Before we really knew about algorithms and the creation of the manipulative silly blue check mark…

-So much fun-

That little blog saw me through six babies, three houses, multiple gardening seasons, rage, joy, and countless, countless expressions of creativity.

Parisienne Farmgirl was there for me to type up my yearnings to live here in Door County and my lamentations as I thought I would truly never, ever make it back to France.

That was quite a few vintages ago…

This year Parisienne Farmgirl turns twenty. The Lord has blessed us with a core of people who find inspiration through this idea of celebrating the elegance of French culture (Parisienne) and the grit and joys of hard work (Farmgirl)l. Don’t let the numbers fool you, the audience isn’t really that big thanks to algorithms, trolls, and bots, but deep down in those Instagram and YouTube numbers is a core of people; many of who have been with me since day one (Which was, strangely enough, having nothing to do with French culture or even my garden for that matter, was a recounting of a standoff I had in a Walmart parking lot with a witch - No joke).

We speak the same language (not the witch and I; my day-oners), and we have commonalities in what we find tasteful and beautiful. They’ve mourned with me and I’ve mourned with them. I’ve celebrated with them and they’ve celebrated with me. And every time self-doubt would creep in and mock me, enticing me to believe in the frivolity of loving to make things beautiful, I’d open the mail to find a letter of encouragement sharing the impact of Parisienne Farmgirl on someone’s life:

A life now inspired.

A garden now dug.

A wardrobe now curated.

A new red lip now tried.

It never failed that “fan mail” would arrive on the worst of days, affirming me and often letting me know that me and mine were lifted up in prayer.

Parisienne Farmgirl.

The same. Changed.

With twenty years passed, I can’t be who I was. There’s no longer a baby on the hip, though in simply typing those words I can feel that joyous lump on my hipbone and sense those dangling chunky limbs. Right bicep bulging with constant flex…Rental farms are gone. Groceries are a little easier to buy (Praise the Lord)... so many of the ideas and dreams hatched in my heart over the years are now a reality. There are no more “is this pregnancy over” lamentations. These days I grieve for children moved on and those preparing to do so. Paris is no longer a memory from a 25-year-old who saved extra grocery money in a tattered envelope - it’s something that I’m constantly ‘recovering’ from and preparing for.

Professionally, I’m no longer trying a new idea every two years (which, I can’t help by the way. I am an ideas person). Yes, professionally, the spaghetti launcher has been retired. Not only is Parisienne Farmgirl older, I am too. And wiser.

From trying to deliver pies 20 years ago, to homemade soap, through two magazines (that were WAY too much work for one woman)... I’ve learned a TON after years of trial and error and there is finally an equation that works for me and for you.

For support, The Old World Design Society is where you hang out for home decor advice, growth, and inspiration. Here on Substack, you can opt-in to detailed weekly advice on incorporating all those things we love as Americans about French culture into your life.

For a ‘fix’ - Everyday Château is where you shop for decor and French antiques when you need a new treasure..

And since all roads lead to Paris -

For an experience - The Paris with Angela tours are there for when you’re ready to immerse yourself in the French culture firsthand.

Professionally, everything I put my hand to these days is to support those three arenas.

Personally, I’m standing facing 2025 with so much gratitude and an overflowing heart. I can’t stop squeezing these children and they grow mid-embrace! We’re here, we’re settled. The love and support of a good, good man is on my side and he has mine on his side as well. We’ve matured enough to know my goals are not his goals and visa versa and we meet somewhere in the beautiful middle. The excesses of youth are no longer my friend. Edges have rounded out a bit. Wisdom, having heard her beautiful voice calling from the streets, feels like a subterranean river; slowly coursing beneath decisions, reactions, goals, and ambitions. I’m content with a spade, spatula, or paintbrush. A laundry load at the homeschool table. A Facetime with my Gram or a cup of coffee in the darkness before the day begins.

I’ll be fifty this year. To say I am overcontemplative would be an understatement and with my never-stopping mind, I know I have a year of contemplation ahead of me. Those thoughts will transform into paintings, garden beds, special moments with children, a quiet conversation with my husband while we milk the cow and so much more.

Those thoughts will bear fruit, some of which will become a part of Parisienne Farmgirl.

Twenty years for her. Fifty for me.

It’s all very exciting. But I don’t come to this New Year’s Eve with excitement. I come with quiet contentment. Proud of years of hard work and gratitude for those who have found enjoyment in it. - That’s you.

Happy New Year…

Bonne année