Christmas in Florida, a Leland Shipp Yarn

Well, shoot fire, it’s me, Leland. With a fresh RC Cola in one hand and a moon pie in the other just to tell y’all about Christmas in Florida. Now, I know what you’re thinkin’: “Leland, ain’t Christmas s’posed to have snow, chimneys, and folks wearin’ enough layers to look like the Michelin Man?” Not in Florida. Down in Florida we got… well, we got Florida.

First off, Santa don’t come down no chimney in the Sunshine State. He comes in on a bass boat, wearin’ flip-flops and a Hawaiian shirt that’s two sizes too small, hollerin’ “Ho ho ho, y’all want some grouper?” His sleigh’s been swapped for a ’78 Chevy pickup with reindeer antlers zip-tied to the grille and a bumper sticker that says I’d Rather Be Fishin’. The elves? They’re retired snowbirds from Ohio, sittin’ on the tailgate in Bermuda shorts, complainin’ about the humidity.

Now, the Christmas tree situation is a whole ‘nother mess. Up north you cut a nice Fraser fir, smells like pine and childhood. In Florida they drag a palm tree outta the backyard, string it with beer-can lights and top it with a plastic flamingo wearin’ a Santa hat. My cousin Ray Dell tried that one year and he said it was “authentic.” Authentic my hind leg. Looked like a drunk lawn ornament got lost on the way to Margaritaville.

And the weather, Lord have mercy. It’ll be 82 degrees on Christmas Eve, so the kids are out ridin’ new bikes in shorts while Grandma’s in the kitchen sweatin’ over a turkey like she’s in a sauna. You open the front door and instead of “Dashing through the snow,” you hear “It’s five o’clock somewhere” blastin’ from somebody’s Bluetooth speaker. I saw a fella one time put up

Christmas lights on his double-wide. It lit up the whole trailer park so bright you could see it from the Space Coast. Looked like Las Vegas threw up on a swamp.

Food? Forget figgy pudding. You got ambrosia salad with enough Cool Whip to grout a bathroom, deviled eggs that’ve been sittin’ on the counter since the early bird special, and a honey-baked ham that’s sweatin’ like a sinner in church. Dessert’s key lime pie, ‘cause nothin’ says “Merry Christmas” like citrus and condensed milk.

But here’s the thing y’all. Crazy as it sounds, it works. You got folks in tank tops singin’ “Silent Night” while a manatee floats by the dock. You got grandkids openin’ presents under a tiki hut while Grandpa naps in a hammock with a cat on his chest. Ain’t traditional, but it’s ours. And when the sun sets over the Gulf, turnin’ the sky all pink and orange, and somebody fires up the grill for Christmas shrimp… well, you realize the holiday ain’t about snow. It’s about family, faith, and not gettin’ eaten by reptiles.

So Merry Christmas, Florida-style. Just watch out for that eggnog. It’s been in the cooler since the Fourth of July, and it’s startin’ to look suspicious.

Leland Shipp — The Voice of Southern Charm & Master of Psychological Thrillers

Leland Shipp is the beloved “Voice of Southern Charm” at The Peddler’s Post, where his monthly articles inspire unity, humor, and community pride across Citrus, Hernando, Pasco, and Sumter counties. His warm, relatable voice and insightful commentary have made him a cherished fixture in local journalism, championing the values that make his region truly special.

An accomplished author of psychological thrillers and horror, Leland’s storytelling prowess is rooted in his deep understanding of human behavior and societal dynamics. With a Bachelor of Science in Criminal Justice and a Minor in Political Science, he skillfully weaves complex plots filled with suspense, mystery, and unexpected twists that keep readers on the edge of their seats. His debut novel, Impulsivity, explores themes of decision-making, responsibility, and the profound impact of reckless love—reflecting his keen eye for the darker aspects of the human psyche.

When he’s not writing gripping tales or engaging with his community, Leland finds solace in the great outdoors—hiking, fishing, and seeking tranquility near lakes, rivers, and the ocean. His stories often delve into psychological manipulation, paranoia, obsession, and self-discovery, echoing his love for the natural world and the mysteries it holds.

Beyond his writing, Leland’s humor and community spirit extend across central Florida, making him a familiar and beloved voice in four counties. Whether through his storytelling, community service, or spreading laughter and insight, Leland Shipp embodies Southern resilience, warmth, and mastery—connecting with audiences through words that entertain, provoke thought, and inspire.