A little about the woman behind the strings…
I’ve always believed that some of the best stories are the ones folded into ordinary days — tucked in between the laundry and the grocery list, dusted with flour, whispered over a cup of tea, and sometimes scribbled in pencil before they’re ever spoken aloud.
My name is Lezanne — a wife, a mother, a collector of old kitchen tools and older wisdom. I wear many aprons: homemaker, storyteller, sometimes overthinker, always heart-first.
A Woman’s Apron was born from a longing to slow down, to remember, and to hold space for the kind of everyday magic our grandmothers used to live without hashtags or fanfare.
Here, you’ll find stories. Some true, some tender, some with a smudge of butter on the edge. You’ll find faith, too — not polished or perfect, but strong enough to keep showing up.
I don’t have all the answers. But I’ve got a decent recipe for old stories, a few crumbs of comfort in my pocket, and a heart that still believes in handwritten letters, proper coffee, and the God who sees us in the quiet corners.
Welcome to my corner of the internet — and thank you for tying your apron strings here with me.
With floury hands,
Lezanne
🫖
