Birthday Reflections of a Vintage-Loving Innkeeper
- Amy Smith
- 3 days ago
- 3 min read
Updated: 9 hours ago
How school-bus daydreams, Grandma's desserts, Mrs. Williams' rhubarb, and a dose of Martha Stewart magic shaped the Inns at 8th & Main
Turning the Page at 54
This week I'm blowing out 54 candles (thank goodness for these lungs 😉) and feeling downright sentimental. Birthdays make me pause, and when I look back, I see a sweet trail of pie crumbs, rhubarb leaves, green Depression glass—and two historic homes that once dazzled a little girl on a school bus.
Bus-Window Daydreams
Every fall on the way to a volleyball game in the early 80s, my yellow bus rumbled past The Stone House and The Morris House. Their beautiful porches and front doors, as well as whispered tales of stagecoaches, had me mesmerized long before I knew what the word "architecture" meant. I'd press my forehead to the glass and think, One day, I'll see inside those walls. Spoiler alert: Life can be wonderfully literal.
Lessons from My Grandmas
Both of my grandmothers were masters of the everyday art Martha Stewart would later broadcast to the world:
Pie-Baking 101: Grandma Vern swore the secret to flaky crust was "cold hands and a warm heart." I still hear her voice every time I cut shortening into flour. You can also thank her for our tradition of Dessert First here at the Inn.
Flower Power: Grandma Ginny could coax blooms from a dry stick. She taught me the names (and personalities) of roses, zinnias, and peonies long before I learned algebra. She was also a great collector, ask me about the dog collection I inherited from her.
Their kitchens and gardens were truly my first hospitality classrooms—no lesson plans, just love, flour dust, and muddy knees.
Mrs. Williams' Rhubarb Patch
During my early years as a young mother and wife, Mrs. Williams, who lived next door, kept the most impressive rhubarb patch in Dresden. She'd wave me over, hand me a stalk (and a Dixie cup of sugar), then send me home with enough tart treasure for Grandma's pie and her coffee cake. To this day, every spring I tuck rhubarb into our breakfast menu, hoping guests taste a hint of her kindness.
Enter Martha Stewart, Stage Left
By the late 1980s, I was a young wife and mom flipping through Martha Stewart Living between diaper changes. She showed me that everyday living could be elevated—tables deserved ironed linens, gardens could be galleries, and yes, green Depression glass was practically a nutritional requirement.
Martha didn't replace my grandmas' wisdom; she amplified it, adding polish to their heart. Suddenly, my thrift-store teacups felt like heirlooms, and my budding antique habit got the official Stewart seal of approval.
Bringing It All Together: Life at the Inn
Fast-forward to today: those once-mysterious mansions are now The Inns at 8th and Main, and I'm the lucky caretaker. Grandma Vern's pie and desserts live on every morning; Grandma Ginny's flowers greet guests in vintage vases; Mrs. Williams' rhubarb stars in our spring coffeecake; and Martha's green glass gleams in our dining room sunlight.
Today, it’s sweet Miss Tilly who keeps the garden magic alive. With her cheerful spirit, overflowing flower beds, and bundles of blooms she’s always willing to share, she inspires much of the floral beauty guests see around the Inn. Whether it's a mason jar bouquet on the breakfast table or a just-snipped sprig by the bedside, her green thumb and generous heart continue the legacy of garden women who came before her.
I've learned that hospitality is sharing your life's sweetest lessons with strangers who quickly become friends.
Candles Lit, Doors Open
So here's to 54 years of pie-baking practice, flower-growing patience, rhubarb-tasting adventures, and Martha-inspired daydreams come true. If you'd like a taste of all that goodness—served on vintage plates, naturally—come stay a while. We'd love to welcome you into the story.
The table's set, the coffee's hot, and the rhubarb coffeecake is cooling on the rack.
— Amy, Your Favorite Innkeeper & Forever Martha Fan
