Each individual bloom in this collection is named after a classic Southern woman—the kind of lady who never misses a Sunday, brews the sweetest tea, and makes the meanest deviled eggs. She’s got a drawl and all the town gossip.

In a way, this series is an ode to Southern womanhood —grit, grace, and deep roots.

A Poem for Magnolias

It’s an emergency: I need to climb a tree.

To climb a tree is the medicine

for taking oneself too seriously

And a magnolia tree is the perfect penicillin

for stick-up-the-ass.

I make my way to my favorite lady.

Her big arms, dipping and reaching

Shaped by storms but steady still.

Sturdy enough to withstand hurricanes

And the weight of me, climbing to the tippy top.

I climb up

And up

And pass buds the size of baseballs,

Leaves like lifeboats,

Not afraid of how high I climb because

I think of when I first felt brave enough

To climb to the top of a magnolia tree.

I was 11 in Isabel’s backyard

(It was technically her neighbor’s yard,

But I doubt he minded).

We made believe we were the last ones left

In our perfectly disastrous world.

We ate roasted chicken with our bare hands–

Greasy and scrappy–

Like real conquerors of something.

I had a magnolia tree in my own backyard,

The house I grew up in.

She wasn’t quite as good for climbing,

But she was just right for burying my first pet–

A fish named Flo. Rest in Peace.

I recline amidst the flowers of my friend,

And I think about my Nana’s wedding bouquet.

Nana and Papa were poor and

Magnolias were in bloom at the time.

They celebrated their 65th anniversary last week.

Up here,

the world feels less like mine to manage.

My favorite lady cradles me

the way a mother does,

And I let myself be small again.

You can find more

original works

by me here

I have gallery representation at The Gallery at Sweetgrass on Isle of Palms, South Carolina, where you can find additional paintings by me and 29 other local artists!