After the holidays, winter becomes a season of its own here — a time to refresh the home, enjoy nature’s quiet beauty, and reflect.
Welcoming the New Year
And so another new year begins — welcome 2026!
I hope your holiday was joyful. Mine was everything you would expect with three dogs, two toddlers, and one baby under a shared roof — full of emotion (toddlers!!), magic (tiny Santa hats and scarves somehow appeared Christmas morning on all of Poppy’s favorite stuffies), good food, laughter, comings and goings, sniffles and coughs (did I say toddlers??), and this year, lots of creating (an easel and art supplies were the most popular gifts). And of course, there was plenty of love to go around too.
It was all over in a flash, and now I find myself back at home, ready to embrace the quiet of January on the coast. Winter is its own distinct season here, apart from the holidays — marked by faded colors outside my windows, ice-covered rocks at low tide, snowy caps on dried hydrangea blooms, and the flap of duck wings echoing across the harbor as they suddenly take flight.
So as I put the Christmas decorations away, I’m also readying my home for the colder months ahead. I take a lighter hand with decorating this time of year — soft blues and tans, a few stems of greenery, and foraged branches, layered with fun vintage nods to the season and a few holdovers from the holidays.
Here’s how I’m settling into winter, while also moving forward into the new year.
Living Room
My winter living room is full of cozy textures, soft colors, subdued patterns, warm light, natural elements pulled from the winter landscape, and a few (fun) seasonal accents. The overall feel is comfortable and lived-in — the perfect place to curl up with a blanket, a book, and a hot beverage.
The mantel
I loved my holiday mantel, with its lush greenery and favorite ship diorama, so I was a little reluctant to take it apart. But it was time for a change — and the return of Captain Ward.
His darker colors and more restrained personality just seem right for this quiet season, and he feels like a good companion through the long, dark days of winter.
I didn’t remove all of the holiday elements — the tangled drape of nautical rope, old books, and monkey fist knot remain in place. And of course, the brass lanterns still anchor each end of the mantel, their warm glow lighting the winter nights.
Instead of a full garland, I added a spray of winter greenery paired with a foraged lichen-covered branch to one side. On the hearth below, a faux grain-painted tin bucket holds birch logs and a large pinecone.
As a direct nod to outdoor winter activities, a pair of vintage fur-trimmed skates hangs from the opposite end of the mantel, and a small pair of wooden snowshoes leans against Captain Ward’s canvas. As a final touch, I pulled the flannel pennant garland from the top of my holiday hutch and draped it across the portrait.
The mantel display is a relaxed — but balanced — jumble of things that represent winter here on the Maine coast. I’m so happy with how it turned out, and I don’t miss the Christmas mantel at all.
Coffee table edits
I took a similar approach with the coffee table, keeping a few things from the holidays and adding in some wintry elements.
The blue and green palette remains, with the basket of vintage books, green pine-scented candle, and pair of stacked books. (The title Poetics of Place, about Maine artist Winslow Homer, feels especially fitting here.)
I decorate with blue year-round, but I especially love pale blues in winter. I moved a pair of stacked antique blue-and-white transferware platters — filled with small china pieces — from the side table next to the couch to the coffee table, and placed a small blue-and-white plate beneath the green candle.
As a final touch, I added something natural: a small glass vase filled with lichen-covered twigs, a flocked pinecone, and a few sprigs of faux juniper with blue berries.
Easy — and done.
Around the room
A new season always means a throw pillow swap. I’ve ordered fabric to sew new covers, but in the meantime, I pulled soft blue, white, and tan covers from my stash. A mix of plaid, block print, and embroidery keeps things interesting.
For extra cozy texture, I laid a short-pile sheepskin across the seat cushions of the small blue sofa.
The table in the corner is back to its usual self — my tabletop pinecone tree zipped neatly into an upright bag and tucked away in the basement. I thought I would miss its warm glow at night, but I’m enjoying the clean simplicity of the books and bowl of ceramic balls, with the lamp providing plenty of light.
You might also notice a small plant refresh for the new year. I’ll share more about that another time, but I’m loving my new fiddle-leaf fig. (My old “Jack and the Beanstalk” fiddle leaf will be in rehab after a good trim.)
The living room feels just right — fresh but cozy, bright but warm. I’m ready to settle in for the winter.
The Dining Area
The same coastal Maine winter story carries over into the dining area, with pale blues, natural elements, and a few well-worn pieces that speak to winter enjoyed outdoors.
The mantel
For the dining area mantel, I simply swapped out a few natural elements to transition from the holidays to winter.
In place of the wreath, I hung a large branch — foraged on a walk in the woods with Maddie and Cisco — from the beam above the fireplace. The soft green lichens covering its bark give warm character to its stark silhouette, and its rustic feel contrasts beautifully with the refined blue-and-white transferware behind it.
In the antique mugs on the mantel, I replaced juniper stems with dried flowers in shades of blue and cream, more lichen-covered twigs, and a few sprigs of greenery.
As a finishing touch, I leaned an old child’s ski against either edge of the fireplace. I love how the worn natural wood blends subtly with the stone.
The hutch
My mom’s antique blue-and-white transferware dishes retain their starring role in the hutch. I did swap in a few vintage Currier and Ives plates with softly faded winter scenes — pieces I picked up at Elmer’s Barn back in early November. That’s also where I found the fireplace skis on a more recent visit. You can read about my November trips to Elmer’s Barn here — and if you look back, you’ll see how many of those finds made their way into my Christmas decor as well.
The pinecones, greenery, pottery Santas, and bottlebrush trees from Christmas have all been put away. For winter, I kept things simple — an Eldreth snowman, a small pottery cottage, and a transferware gravy boat holding a single flocked greenery tip.
On top of the hutch, I arranged a blue-and-green plaid wool blanket topped with two vintage wooden snowshoes. Another pair of vintage fur-trimmed ice skates hangs from the left corner, and a pair of hand-knit snowflake mittens is draped across the edge of the blanket. Two frosted glass hurricanes hold flameless candles, set to come on each evening.
The dining area now feels ready for soup dinners that nourish both body and soul, quiet morning coffee, and cozy moments by the fire.
Moving Forward Into the New Year
As I step into each new year, I always like to set intentions — not a list of concrete resolutions, but a loose framework of things to focus on and a general roadmap for the direction I’d like to head. This year, though, as I reflect on those intentions, I find myself in a new and unexpected season of life that I am still very much learning how to navigate.
Looking back
Behind the scenes here at Molly in Maine, 2025 was one of difficult personal change. After nearly forty years of marriage, my relationship came to an end in a way I never expected. The months since have been filled with sadness and hurt, along with a great deal of introspection — questioning the past and grappling with uncertainty about the future. I have turned inward as I’ve tried to come to terms with a new reality I did not choose.
Moving forward
For much of 2025, my focus has been on processing and trying to understand what has been lost. That work has been necessary. But as this new year begins, I feel ready to start moving forward — despite the pain and fear that I still feel. I need to learn how to live, and maybe even thrive, in this next chapter of my life.
I don’t have everything figured out, but I also know that standing still is no longer where I want to remain. This year, I’m setting intentions around how I move through the days, weeks, and years ahead — how to give myself grace, and how to begin building a life that feels like my own again.
Inspiration
As I’ve been thinking about the year ahead, a few ideas have particularly resonated with me.
I’ve never paid much attention to the Chinese zodiac, which assigns an animal to each year, but when I recently read about 2025 and 2026, I was struck by how closely they mirrored my own experiences. 2025, the Year of the Snake, is associated with shedding old skin and quiet, internal change — and that feels uncomfortably fitting. Looking ahead to 2026, the Year of the Horse, I find hope in the idea of forward motion, independence, and reclaiming momentum. Not a gallop to start, but perhaps a gentle trot.
I’ve also been thinking about the idea of building a life you love — not waiting for or expecting something grand to arrive, but creating it slowly and intentionally through daily choices and an appreciation for small moments of joy. After a year that has felt wildly outside of my control, I like the idea of beginning to claim my life again, one step at a time.
In 2026, my intention is simple: to keep moving forward, to build a life I love, and to remain open to what comes next.
I hope you’ll join me on this new journey.
A Brief Pause
But first… After this post, I’ll be taking a short break from the blog. Creating and writing here has been a lifeline for me over the past months. By choosing to spend time with me, you have bolstered my spirits in ways you never knew — for that, I am deeply grateful.
At the same time, showing up here each week while feeling so tender inside has required more emotional energy than I often realized. I’m looking forward to some time to rest, work on a few home projects, and give the blog a small refresh.
I will return in February. Thank you for your understanding as I take this time to reset.
Hope — and new life
Of course life continues to unfold — sometimes astonishingly — alongside loss. Joy and grief can coexist, and the miracle in the everyday is there if we take the time to notice it.
While 2025 was a difficult year for our family, the Year of the Horse brings with it something joyful to share: we’ll be welcoming a new baby girl — a little sister to Poppy — in May.
And so, life moves forward.
A small note
I have shared this part of my life with you because honesty matters to me — both in writing here and in how I move through the world. This wasn’t easy, but it felt important to acknowledge where I am, and to share the intentions guiding me forward. If any of this resonates with you, I hope it helps to know you’re not alone.
As always, I welcome your comments, and I’ll be reading each one with gratitude and care. For this post, I’ll be keeping comments private rather than public, for both my own privacy and for anyone who may feel moved to share something personal of their own.
I’ll see you in February. Until then take good care of yourself and be well.
