I’m a 5th-generation farm girl from Illinois, raised on the kind of values you can’t teach in a classroom — hard work, honest food, and the belief that what you grow and make should nourish both body and soul.

Those roots are woven into every loaf and every jar that leaves my kitchen.

From my grandmother’s handwritten recipes to the way we measure, stir, and knead with intention… it’s all a continuation of the story my family started long before me.

And today, through the photos in this post, you’ll get to “meet” the faces of the family who shaped me — generation by generation:

• Una, my grandma who taught me to bake and can

• Clarence, my grandpa who worked the fields with quiet strength

• Karen, my mom who carried these traditions forward with so much love

• Charles, my dad who showed me what real hard work looks like

These are the hands and hearts behind the values I bring into my kitchen every single day.

Those deep roots didn’t just shape who I am — they shaped how I grew up, day by day, season by season.

I grew up “organic” long before I ever knew what the word meant — and long before it became trendy.

Every spring, my dad would till up a piece of the field next to our house so my mom, grandma, and I could plant our garden. Looking back, it wasn’t small at all — it felt like our own little world. We watered it twice a day from an old hand-pump well, carrying heavy buckets back and forth and ladling water gently over each row.

My grandma lived right next door, and she taught me everything:

• how to tend a garden

• how to pick fruits and vegetables at their absolute peak

• how to understand the quiet rhythm of growing things with intention

Inside, my mom and grandma spent hours making bread, homemade pasta, every sweet imaginable (her coconut cream pie was famous), and teaching me how to can every bit of what we grew. Nothing went to waste — every scrap went right back into the earth to nourish the soil for the next season.

I wish I still lived there and could teach my daughter those same lessons in the place where I learned them. But since I can’t, I’m teaching her here — in Fort Mill, SC — our new home, where we feel just as welcomed as we did in Illinois.

These memories are the foundation of The Fort Mill Daily Loaf.

They’re the reason everything we make is rooted in intention, tradition, and love.

It’s our story, one loaf and one jar at a time.

One of the greatest joys of building The Fort Mill Daily Loaf is watching Charlotte step into the story that started generations before her.

And if you’ve ever enjoyed Charlotte’s Strawberry Jam, you should know the truth... she really does help.

She loves washing berries, putting labels on jars, taste-testing (her proudest job), and telling everyone which jam is “the best one this week.” If you’ve met her, you know she’ll proudly remind you that her strawberry jam is the best-seller — and she means it wholeheartedly.

But one of my favorite things is how she plays “Fort Mill Daily Loaf.”

She pretends she’s getting calls, taking orders, packaging bread and jam… and in her little world, she’s incredibly generous. She gives away jars and loaves to “people who've lost their home” or “families who don’t have food.” Hearing her talk about helping others — with the same food traditions passed down to me — is so sweet and heartwarming. It shows me she truly understands the heart behind what we do.

When we’re in the kitchen together, I’m transported back to the hands that taught me — my mom’s and my grandma’s — guiding me through gardens, dough, and jars. 

Now I get to pass those same lessons on to her:

• how to measure with intention

• how to stir with patience

• how to take pride in the small things… because the small things matter.

This isn’t just a bakery — it’s a mama-and-daughter operation. A place where she gets to see what creativity and hard work look like up close. A place where she learns that food is love, and tradition is something you build with your hands, your heart, and your stories.

We may live far from the Illinois farm where I learned these lessons, but the heart of it is right here in Fort Mill. And who knows — maybe one day she’ll become the 6th generation to carry these traditions forward.

These moments — this legacy being shaped by her little hands — are the heart of The Fort Mill Daily Loaf.

It’s why every loaf and every jar is truly made with love… and shared with joy.

People often ask where our motto came from — Made with love, shared with joy.

The truth? I never sat down to create it.

It’s simply who we are.

It comes from five generations of farming hands who believed food should comfort and care for the people you love:

• A childhood spent watering gardens by hand

• Learning that what you grow — and how you grow it — matters

• Watching my mom and grandma bake, stir, knead, and can with intention

Nothing rushed. Everything done with heart.

And now… it comes from Charlotte:

• Her tiny fingerprints on jam labels

• Her strawberry-stained grin after “taste-testing”

• Her sweet game of “Fort Mill Daily Loaf,” where she:

• pretends to answer calls

• takes customer orders

• and — my favorite — gives bread and jam to people “who don’t have food or lost their home.”

Without even realizing it, she understands the soul of this little bakery:

• Food is love

• Sharing it is joy

That’s the heartbeat behind every loaf we bake and every jar we fill:

• It’s not about perfection

• It’s not about fancy techniques

• It’s about creating something real, comforting, and homey — and sharing it with the people around us

Made with love, shared with joy isn’t just a motto.

It’s our family story.

It’s our legacy.

And it’s the feeling we hope you get every time you open a jar or slice into a loaf.