Re-vamping the Reading Room

cozy reading nook

hours in books, retirement bliss

dogs, too, bask in this……

When we built our house in 2008, we used the open space concept of the honeymoon house we’d stayed in in North Georgia as our plan and my husband drew it on a napkin for the contractor who built it. I requested three things: front and back porches, dual “thrones” in the master bathroom, and a reading room where I could see rain, sun, and wildlife out the windows. I measured and found bookcases that completely covered two walls, and I ordered comfy sink-down-into-a-book-reading chairs like they used to have at Barnes and Noble back in the day. It was my dream room, but with more and more work demands, I had less and less time to sit and read. Books spilled out into the bedroom and other rooms of the house, and I had to pare down the obsession by donating many of my beloved volumes. Shelves were buckling from the weight with the way I had adjusted for heavier and taller books. The chairs had faded from the intense sunlight in the room. It only got worse last year when the trees were harvested for timber and the sun siphoned all the rest of the color from the chairs.

I didn’t want curtains where trees had always been our “outdoor curtains,” but it was blinding in the room, and the windows acted like a glass oven door sending the temperature through the roof. The larger windows overlook a butterfly and bird garden that I want to be able to see without the interference of drapery. My beloved Schnauzer Fitz loved looking out these curtainless windows on the faded ottoman so much that that he is buried right beneath them, as is Archie, a rescue given to us by a former librarian and my black and tan Dachshund Roxie, who moved back to Georgia with me after an awful divorce. It’s a regular pet cemetery underneath the reading room, but there was no choice about the curtains; they had to be installed. The first thing I did was get tension rods with room darkening curtains so I would not have to install hardware in the casings. And I reluctantly put up those sworn-off window treatments.

Then, when Dad left us in June 2025, my brother and I kept the Barrister bookcases as treasures that we remember holding “the most valuable books” he had collected. I sold all 6 of my original bookcases, replaced them with 3 Barristers on one wall, and started over with the room, beginning to redesign it with retirement – and lots more reading – in mind. I also came up with a plan to manage book breeding. My brother and I had given Dad a Little Free Library to go outside on his street corner for him to start paring down his book collection, but he’d never gotten around to putting it together. My husband found a Phillips Head and magically built it out for me, and we brought it home from the island. I haven’t figured out whether it’ll go in the community somewhere or whether I’ll take it to campsites for folks to take books, but it will be part of the population control plan. I also use Libby and the library more now than ever.

The goal was to redesign the reading room on a dime with existing items. I’m not a fan of clutter…..except when it comes to cozy book-filled nooks. With books, somehow I’m a complete hoarder-go-overboarder. But as a disciple of Robin Wall Kimmerer of Braiding Sweetgrass fame, I also like to keep the simple concept of repurposing and reusing what is on hand. Because every fixture is in some way the descendant of earth or tree, a leaf from the branch of natural resource. I started by stripping the faded chair and a half of its cover and repurposing an old channel quilt as a new chair cover. I swiped a rug from another room, and then for the finishing comfy seating touch, I brought in a new throw recently received as a retirement gift from a friend – – and it makes the room pop with style and reminds me of her each time I sit here and read. She knows me well – – the throw says, “I can’t stay long, my dog is waiting.” It’s draped over the chair where Ollie sandwiches himself between the chair arm and my right hip and Boo settles onto the back and wraps himself around me like an airplane neck pillow, and we all sink down into the soft cushions and get lost in nap or story.

Next, I took a candle shelf and added the “Books Read This Year” sign one of my daughters sent me for Mother’s Day. I updated my number to 30 and selected the lowest Barrister to showcase it. I put a fairy light tree next to it for ambience, and on one branch I placed an ornament given to me by a book club member who’d taken all our 2025 books and made miniatures of them to go inside a clear bulb and an ornament from a friend who recently visited the redwoods in California and sent me a wooden cutout with a gold hanging thread. The room still needed music, so I brought in a Smart TV from Dad’s house and programmed it so I could put fall jazz on YouTube and have a seasonal backdrop for the room. I brought in a floor lamp for a corner from the living room and made the small fireplace we’d used at the base of the bed in the Little Guy camper the permanent small fireplace in the reading room (it’s a space heater, but we can use it without the heat part in the summer). An old farmhouse stool sits by the chair to hold my coffee. And a painting from the same friend who gave me the throw will be hung next to the glass French doors leading back into the bedroom once I get a box of picture hanging hardware. The only new things I’ll need are a new unfaded ottoman – which I might be able to locate on Marketplace – and a hook for the binoculars I use when I see little rabbits at the edge of the brush or owls and hawks in the branches across the farm.

It didn’t convert to scale….but here it is!

It’s a work in progress, but it’s the kind of work that’s fun and comes without buyer’s remorse over needless purchases. And while I love sunny days, I am secretly praying for rainy and snowy days where I can read the day away without feeling like I should be anywhere else.

And our favorite Atlanta weatherman tells us it’ll be my kind of winter…..come bundle up and sit with me and read!

Walkin In a Spider Web

Chelsea Bradway <p>
Chandelier pieces, wire, and fishing line </p><p>
$1,500  Inquiries: artonthetrails@gmail.com
</p><p>
Repurposed chandelier crystals and an upcycled film reel form a sculptural spider web glimmering with stories of connection, resilience, and growth. The crystal fragments—once suspended in private spaces—now radiate outward as points of shared light, reflecting how individual experiences touch others. The film reel anchors the web, reminding us that memory, history, and community are inseparable threads. An invitation to consider how we build, mend, and sustain one another—how our shared stories, hopes, and vulnerabilities form the luminous webs that hold us all.</p>

Throughout the month of September, I’m taking the time to appreciate various forms of art and to be inspired by the creativity and thought that goes into each work – whether it’s a painting, a sketch, a collage postcard, or a structure created in nature along a trail. This week, I’m sharing poems that were inspired by Art on the Trails. Today’s ekphrastic poem is in response to Chelsea Bradway’s Walkin in a Spiderweb that you can read more about here. I chose a Huitian as my form, thinking of the eight legs of a spider and how poetic form can become a part of the overall impression when paired with visual art. A Huitan has eight lines of eight syllables, and this one has a rhyme scheme of abbaacca.


Crystal Chandelier Delight

one spider spins a web of light

to reach into our darkest fears

shares stories told throughout the years

then turns to others to invite

their own connections and insight

together, then, they all reach out

climb far beyond the waterspout

weave crystal chandelier delight

If you’d like to know more about the project, visit this page and watch the videos that were created to show how the shared vision became a reality. This makes me want to create a similar event in my own community. I have a trail in mind – a trail created in memory of a former student whose parents are my former colleagues. I just wonder……could we do the same thing here, inviting artists to create works of art, and poets to write poems inspired by that art, and then walk along a trail in celebration of it all?

I think that would be a beautiful thing to do!

Ekphrastic Art: Time in the Landscape Signposts Tanka

Art on the Trails is a unique celebration of art in nature and poetry that takes place at the Elaine & Philip Beals Preserve in Southborough, Massachusetts each year, and this will be the ten year anniversary of this event. In the first phase, art is selected by an art judge who announces the 16 winning works for installation along the nature trail, and then in the second phase, two poems are selected by a poetry judge and the artist to go along with each work of art. You can read about the poetry process here. I responded in verse to four of these works of art along the trail this year and submitted them for chapbook publication. I’ll share my poem that is selected to appear in the chapbook on the scheduled day of the event finale on Sunday, September 13.  I will be unable to be there in person to read my poem at the progressive walk, but I have shared a video recording with event organizers and will share that here as well. Today, I’m sharing the tanka I wrote in response to Mike Libby’s work Here and There and Now and Then as part of the 2026 Art on the Trails: Time in the Landscape. 

Signposts Tanka

signposts guide our way~

here and there and now and then

we choose our own paths

today, tomorrow, later

tonight, forever, always

Rattle’s Ekphrastic Poetry Challenge

Throughout the month of September as we officially welcome the start of the fall season, I’m sharpening my awareness and appreciation of the art and nature around me. This week, I will share five ekphrastic poems that I’ve written in response to works of art. These five poems were all submitted for publication to various calls for poetry I found through Submittable.com in the Discover tab, and of the five poems, one was accepted into a poetry chapbook celebrating works of art in nature. I’ll share the poem selected for publication one week from today.

For the month of July, Rattle’s Ekphrastic poetry prompt was the piece below by Leslie Ann Aguillard. Find more about the artist here. My poem is beneath this image. I didn’t win or place with this nonet, but Rattle hosts a monthly Ekphrastic challenge that writers love, and we all win when we write. We just don’t all get that $15,000 prize for the big contest or the $100 for the monthly challenges……

Wrong Number Nonet

another wrong number again, truth

beginning to set in like knives

each piercing deeper into

memories of warnings:

he can’t be faithful

….don’t marry him!

she knows now ~ 

.

.

.

they were

right

Labor Day Camping

Camping Tanka

on our favorite

campsite at our favorite

campground, reading books,

snuggling dogs, watching movies

sipping coffee, holding hands

We’re traveling more in my retirement, but the way my husband sees it, the only way we’ll stay home as much as he likes is if he keeps working, so he’s not taking the Social Security option just yet. He knows I’d pare down what’s in the house and sell most everything and take to the open road in the Wayfarer if it were up to me. I’d take us two plates, two mugs, two spoons, two forks, and two knives. I’d pack three pairs of jeans and six t-shirts, plus two pairs of sweatpants and a thin sweatshirt for pajamas. My camo Birkenstocks, one pair of sneakers, and my trusty Ugg slippers would be in my shoe cabinet. That’s pretty much how my two prescription medications and my favorite toothbrush and I would live for six months out of the year – until all the trees have grown tall enough to give us back our woodsy cocoon we once called home before they were harvested to go off and realize their ultimate destiny as telephone poles, the poor things.

In my best estimation, we’d travel by day, stopping for groceries on our way to wherever we’d camp for two or three nights. We’d take morning hikes and go exploring with the dogs, I’d press flowers between the pages of books and sketch them for watercolor paintings and bookmarks, and then we’d build campfires to sip coffee by, read books for hours, watch movies, and listen to music. I’d have to play Mahjong with bots on the computer unless I came across a group of three players needing a fourth; otherwise, we’d play Phase 10 so I could stay perpetually confused about what to discard.

We’d stop at every festival along the way so we could check out all the jams, preserves, and pickled things they’d be selling, and we’d buy some for our morning toast, along with a dozen free-range fresh eggs. And we’d throw in some homemade soap, too, probably made with the goat milk of someone’s backyard herd. It would smell like crisp mountain air with a hint of breezy wildflowers. Then we’d opt for a caramel apple instead of a funnel cake and sit in a bentwood rocker and watch the cloggers and banjos for a while before Wayfaring along on our merry way, humming some bluegrass tunes .

For today, though, we’ll watch Secondhand Lions and Arthur the King with dogs in our laps snuggled under fleecy throws, and I’ll be reading The Year of What If by Phaedra Patrick since that’s what popped up for me on Libby. Yes, for today, we’ll only have a little pat of Kerrygold tub butter on our cinnamon raisin bagels – – none of these festival preserves that must wait for another time……

Digitizing the Family Photographs

I’ve been digitizing family photos, getting rid of hard copies of pictures that require closets full of storage. We’ll save space and put these on thumb drives, allowing each family member to have access to all the photos instead of splitting them up. It has always been difficult for me to see my own resemblance to family members through the years, but in my younger years everyone said I looked just like my dad. As I’ve aged, though, and especially when I’m wearing contacts instead of glasses, I’m often told I look like my mother.

My husband and I recently met my dad’s sister for lunch on the way home from a camping weekend, and she remarked how I looked like my mother………and when you hit 60, that feels different than it ever has before.

Lunch with My Aunt

when your aunt tells you

you look just like your mother

you cry, smile, laugh, sigh…

Spiritual Journey Thursday: Rhythm

it takes a rhythm

to create healthy habits

to remain in sync

Ramona is our host this month for Spiritual Journey Thursday (SJT), and she invites us to reflect on rhythm. You can read her post here.

When I think of rhythm, I think of cycles associated with biorhythms, seasons and times, and cycles of nature. This verse from Genesis comes to mind:

Genesis 1:14 ESV

And God said, “Let there be lights in the expanse of the heavens to separate the day from the night. And let them be for signs and for seasons, and for days and years….

I think of things having an appointed time in the rhythm of life when I consider the verses in Ecclesiastes that are so iconic to seasons and turning.

Ecclesiastes 3:1 ESV

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:

Rhythms and cycles play an important role in balance and harmony of living. Having a rhythm to each day, each week, each month is an important part of life, whether we are working or retired – rhythms are like schedules, habits, and time management. One of the first things I had to do in retirement was create new routines. A new prayer time topped my list, since my prayer chamber used to be my drive in to work and now that I’m not going there anymore, I needed a new designated time that would be consistent. I chose coffee time since there is a rhythm to that regularity and, to some degree, a consistent morning time frame – – and, like coffee, I need prayer at the top of the day. I have discovered in this new routine that I like to see steam rising from my mug as I say prayers, as if what is coming from my lips is swirling in a steam mist upwards to heaven in the quiet, relaxed rhythms of the morning.

HELLO! and HELP!

someone stranded

on a desert island

sends smoke signals

I send prayers

from the porch

fresh from my lips

vapors rising

to heaven

A special thanks to Ramona for hosting this month and inspiring us to think of the rhythms in our spiritual lives.

Cascadia Postcard Poetry Fest 2026 Grand Finale Celebration

Last night’s Cascadia Labs Poetry Postcard Fest 2026 Grand Finale Celebration over Zoom gave poets from around the world an opportunity to share their visual works of art and their poetry with everyone in attendance. It was a festive evening hearing the voices of the poets reading their original poems and sharing how they created their cards. While I did not register to read in the evening of sharing, I will begin sharing the postcards that I sent as part of the Poetry Postcard Fest later this month on the blog. It isn’t easy fitting a handwritten poem on a postcard, but short forms like haiku make it less challenging.

I don’t want it to end, so I found a new poetry postcard group beginning this month – – and also registered for the 2027 Cascadia Postcard Poetry Fest, 11 months in advance.

why can’t every day

be a poetry postcard

day full of word gifts?

Lookout Mountain Railway Incline

Chattanooga, Tennessee is home to the steepest railway incline in the world, and every time I’ve driven past the exit to go there, I always think I’d like to ride it someday.

That day was yesterday.

I was a little worried that the weird angle and any sort of strange movement might mess with my vertigo and send me into a tailspin, but it turned out that there was nothing off-kilter like strange turns or centrifugal G-force pulls to set me off. I loved the view of Chattanooga from the top and the supreme minus sausage, extra mushroom please at SoHi pizza and thought of a favorite Bible verse as I took my first bite.

For I was hungry….

Matthew 25:35

My husband studied the photos of the railway from the 1800s to the present; he loves photos that show progression of a place through time. What we didn’t know is that you can ask to be shown the machinery room and they will let you see it. We read this on a card at the bottom of the railway once we got back down to the bottom of Lookout Mountain. We thought our tickets might have worked to get back up there again but kept our pace for getting home to Georgia from our trip to Nashville with enough time to unpack and unwind before time for bed.

For I was hungry

and the pizza was there, Lord,

and I ate it all.

….but I managed to avoid the fudge counter with about twenty different types of handmade fudge including toffee and peach and peanut butter and dark espresso, so despite the temptation, I did show a little food control. And I didn’t even turn my head when I walked past all those Moon Pies.

One last stop was the Chattanooga Choo Choo, just to see the iconic building and its amazing architecture. This building is on the National Registry of Historic Places, and even the bricks on the facade are intriguing to study. We parked and walked around for just a few minutes before hopping back on I-24.

And just like that, when we finally made it home, our heads hit the pillow, exhuasted from a whirlwind trip that sapped our energy but left us with great memories. On this last day of my first full month of official retirement, I can confirm that retirement is a lot like a great trip in that way. You get up ready to go, you go, go, go, and then you crash and sleep on your bed (which is now your charging port) to recharge for the next thing you’ll want to do….whatever that turns out to be.

At The Grand Ole Opry for the Tribute to Dolly Parton

Sometimes when I’m going somewhere, I pray for a parking space before I ever pull into the parking lot. Lord, show me the way to a space to park. I often quip that I must be doing something right when the Lord blesses me with a good one. And the other way around when He doesn’t.

Same is true of Thursday afternoon when I went on a mission to see if I could get tickets to the Dolly Parton tribute at the Grand Ole Opry in Nashville, Tennessee before they all sold out. I said a prayer and got two tickets. The kennel had space to board our four-legged sons, and there were hotel rooms available right across the street from the Opry, on Music City Drive and McGavock Pike.

I‘ve done something right.

And I’ll keep right on trying.

Thank you, Lord! Amen.

This day takes me back through the years of coming to the Grand Ole Opry. My husband’s former company was based in Nashville. He came up several times a year to meet with the team and get the company truck serviced, and each time he came I’d ask to ride along so we could go to the Opry. In those days, I was working on another degree and spent quiet days in the hotel with stronger wifi and more free coffee than my rural area offered while he went to work, and then he’d swing by and pick me up for dinner before the show. Or, if I finished working or needed a break, I was close enough to tarry over to Opry Mills Mall. It’s where I bought my first pair of Birkenstocks and where my older daughter worked at The Rainforest Cafe for years. (She had just moved to Antioch when the Christmas morning bomb exploded in the building right next to where they had lived in downtown Nashville. Ironically, the bomber had lived in Antioch. I was blessed that she was safe).

This visit to the Opry hits much differently. A legend, among the greatest humans who ever lived, gained her wings last week. She knew poverty, and she knew the rags of hard life before she ever knew the riches – which is quite literally depicted in her Coat of Many Colors and its triumphant story. She worked her way up with elbow grease and talent, blessing, and an almighty Godwink. And she has done more for Literacy in this area of the United States than anyone with her Imagination Library, inspired by her father’s inability to read and write and knowing that it would take someone with a big heart and deep pockets for some of the children of Appalachia to have a fighting chance to be literate.

I was listening to some audiobook previews to help one of my book club sisters choose a Dolly Parton book for October, and all the way up my husband and I listened to Dolly Parton, Songteller, a book about the stories of Dolly’s life and how certain moments became the inspiration for her songs. My husband was behind the wheel of the car but “along for the ride” on the audiobook, as he often is about books when we travel – and he is always a good sport about it, too. But something captured him about this one. Once we’d arrived and checked in to the hotel, he asked me to turn the audiobook back on during our rest time before we went over to the Opry.

As we made our way through the lines and into the Opry, we took in all the many different ways people arrive for this event – not just in the cars, Ubers, and taxis, but also in manner of dress. Denim shorts, tank top, cowboy boots and hat. Shorts, tshirt with butterfly wings attached, and sandals. Leather skirt just south of what it needed to cover, tank top just north, and fringed vest with silver glitter knee boots and matching cowboy hat. Jeans, sneakers, and a plain t-shirt. Formal gowns of all colors, mostly pink for the evening. I started thinking that maybe the girls’ adventure book club trip after reading the Songteller should be to come to Nashville and shop for glitter boots and cowgirl hats and then come to the Opry.

The show was just as Dolly would have wanted it to be – people remembering her through story and sharing what she meant to them. And somehow, the always-eclectic mix of talent at the Opry from the legends to the newcomers was evident…..and, of course, they all had stories of Dolly. There wasn’t a dry eye in the house when T. Graham Brown stepped onstage in a pink and silver sequined coat and sang Beulahland (25:12 in the Youtube link below). One who needed tissues throughout the show was the woman seated next to me. She was Dolly’s age and had grown up visiting Opryland all her life and continued the tradition when she had her own children. She’d lost her husband five years ago, and her son and his wife had flown her to the show in their small plane. She shared how they had feverishly worked to get tickets on Thursday also and how thrilled they were to get them and make the last-minute trip. There were as many stories in the crowd as there were on the stage, as there are throughout the world.

Favorite and least favorite moments from us? My husband’s least favorite moment was when Jelly Roll came out “after such a classy show, and then he had to roll out at the end and wreck it.” I didn’t have a least favorite; I loved every minute of that show. My husband’s favorite moment was all of it except Jelly Roll. I liked that Belle Frantz sang from her heart with such passion and got a standing ovation on her Opry debut (46:10 in the link below). She shared that her first album is coming out in November, and that it’s scary to release one – – particularly a gospel album – -but that she felt bold enough to do it and took her inspiration from Dolly. I was stuck by how much she reminded me of Patsy Cline.

You can watch the YouTube of the show here and discover your own favorite and least favorite moment.

Each time I see the circle, taken from the original Ryman Auditorium downtown, I get a little misty eyed at the significance and reasons that it was installed – to preserve the sacred space of the Country music greats who have all stood here. I’ve watched the 100th Anniversary a hundred times and can hear the song and the chorus of voices singing it – Will the circle be unbroken, by and by, Lord, by and by….there’s a better home awaiting in the sky, Lord, in the sky. I think of the history of Dolly Parton’s presence on that stage, and the way she could immediately connect with her audience, and the way that even in her absence, her Opry family connected with her – giving her the final performance of the evening. I think of this night of tribute and the many more that her musical family are offering, like Pink’s. And so many more ways she is being honored all across the nation and the world.

Of all the great Opry moments we have missed, I’m glad that last night was not one of them. I always leave looking forward to the next visit to The Grand Ole Opry.