Falling In Love with Sounds

My friend Margaret Simon shared Georgia Heard’s Substack with me, and I love reading about her travels and writing experiences – and her book recommendations. A couple of months ago, she was reading The Salt Stones: Seasons of a Shepherd’s Life, recommended it on her post, and I picked it up and loved every page of it. You can see her posts here. I think what I love most about her book recommendations is that they are journey-related and not necessarily bestsellers that everyone would naturally pick up and read. I like books that take me down back roads, and she does a splendid job of this.

I love that she offers writing calendars that work for both children and adults. Here is her February Valentine Mini Writing Calendar, inspiring us to fall in love with the everyday. I’ll be starting this today and walking with Georgia through the week. Join me with a journal and a pen!

Day 2 asks us to fall in love with love with a sound: birdsong, traffic, a voice, silence…..and to share what touched our hearts.

My Husband

speaks my love language~

he empties the dishwasher

clink, clang, clatter, clack

January 29 Brussels Sprouts, Smoked Salmon, and Eggs


This cold weather has my memories of Alaska swirling like magic-dust snowflakes of wanderlust. I’ve been there twice, both times on cruises – so even though I tasted none of the “local” flavors of the non-touristy places in the nation’s largest state that was anything but a folly, both times I’ve indulged in that spectacular smoked sockeye salmon that is sliced thin and served with eggs, capers, lox and bagels. We’d go to brunch, and they’d serve it as an early tea time with breakfast for late risers being more of a light lunch.

The cold weather brought the memories, but the threat of power outages last week brought shopping for things we could eat with minimal preparation. I found a good brand in Publix over in Peachtree City and gave thanks for the fish, imagining it swimming upstream to spawn, trying to avoid the fish-spearing claws of grizzly bears out there standing on those shallow rocks as ribbons of fresh red fish flitter past their feet. The one I was holding made it back home to do its one last thing before ending up in a sliced and packaged fillet.

I always boil all of our eggs prior to a winter storm. We’ve discovered that they keep fine in a cooler on the back porch and can feed us for days on end. And when we put a little sliver of salmon on top, it’s just the ticket for an Alaskan meal right here at home in middle Georgia!

Sockeye Tanka

red sockeye salmon,

boiled eggs, roasted Brussels sprouts

Alaskan dinner

right here in middle Georgia

mid-week special treat

January 25 – Mallory’s Birthday

she’s growing up fast

thirty nine years old today……

still my baby girl

Happy birthday to my first-born child today! She’s a kid at heart, and she loves to read. When she was little, we’d pile up on blankets or beds for book picnics – – she, her sister and I would do nothing but read all day long while the boys were out fishing. Last year, she read 144 books, stomping my 20 down to a pancake compared to her skyscraper. She still calls them her “chapter books.” Today, instead of raising a glass to my daughter, I open a book. It’s what we do best in our DNA.

Happy Birthday, Mallory!

It’s Snowing Books!

One minute we’re expecting snow along with the ice storm of the century, but the next it’ll be 75 degrees and sunny. There’s a chance of snowfall, ranging anywhere from 0″ to 145.” I’ve heard it all this week, and I guess it’s safe to say we’ve prepared for all or nothing, just as they’ve said: prepare for the worst, hope for the best. And The Weather Channel is the best place to find a time loop where you live the same ten minutes on repeat. It may well be the portal for time travelers to take a jaunt in time somewhere far more stable than here.

I’m not sure what I’d take with me, but no matter where I am, all I really need are books, dogs, a comfy chair and a cup of coffee. My TBR stack is taller than I am, and I keep reading blog after blog after blog. This morning, Tom Ryan’s Substack featured the most joyful photos I’ve seen all year ~ his dog Emily (Samwise in the background) leaping for joy. He and his two dogs have just move to Cape Cod from the White Mountains of New Hampshire and are walking the woods where Mary Oliver wrote much of her poetry.

Today will be a day of quiet, peaceful living here on the Johnson Funny Farm an hour south of Atlanta’s Hartsfield Airport, right on the flight path where we use our Flight Tracker app to check where all the planes have left and where there going. Fun times. Quiet: at least, that’s what’s planned, but things can go sideways here pretty fast. Fifteen times in the past five minutes, there have been earth-shaking gunshots out here in the deep rural country ~ deer? ducks? Who knows? The important thing is that the dogs are here tucked safely in our bed, the gas logs have plenty of propane, we’re stocked up on candles and have 12 pouches of tuna, a dozen boiled eggs, and cheese and crackers. And instant coffee.

Let the reading commence! Wherever this day finds you, even if your power goes out, I hope you stay warm and cozy.

the book is better

than any movie ever

our own minds film scenes

pennies, nickels, dimes

won’t buy a movie ticket

reading a book: free!

I’m currently reading Theo of Golden by Allen Levi.

Verse Novels Make Me Smile

For the next 3 weeks, I’m taking our media specialists on tours of different media centers in our state to gather ideas for updating our own media centers. We were on a tour today when one middle school media center had a section completely dedicated to verse novels – and a poster definition, too! I felt my whole heart warm as I looked at the fabulous display and smiled – –here is a media specialist who is curating a collection for a kid after my own heart. Yes! I’m cheering!

verse novel fever

starts with but one heartwarming

poetic story

Year 3 of The Stafford Challenge Kicks Off Today

Have you ever wondered whether you could write daily?

Do you love poetry and prose?

f Are you strapped for time and wonder about the commitment?

Wonder no more.

Come on, take my hand and walk down the shore. See the beauty?

Join the Year 3 kickoff of The Stafford Challenge today. It’s not too late to sign up, and you may just ask yourself what took you so long to join. This writing circle is completely free (you can make a donation only if you want – and I did not donate until the 3rd year). You will meet writers from all over the world, be inspired by them, and have the option to join a small group writing circle (you can join with others you don’t know or form your own like we did), where you will share and form some of the closest long-distance relationships you’ve ever had. Even if you don’t consider yourself a strong writer – – or a writer at all.

Come on, stick your big toe in the water. It feels refreshing in here.

My small writing group meets the first Monday of each month ~ Barb Edler of Iowa, Glenda Funk of Idaho, and Denise Krebs of California. We catch up on life, we talk about what we’re reading and what we’re writing, and we share our poetry. Sometimes we write during our Zoom. You know that poem The Cure by Kate Baer in her latest book How About Now? It’s how I feel about my writing circles. This is so much more than breakfast.

Today is the kickoff, and you can sign up at this link. I would love to see you there today. I’ll send you a wave from my tiny screen.

Come on, dive in! You can swim or float, and either is divine.

writing, belonging

to a group of likeminded

poets, anchors me

Come on. I’ll be waiting.

Briar’s Birthday

Drinking Coffee in Tulsa, Oklahoma

a certain photo

scrolls past

on our digital frame

and I swipe back

to see it once more

study it

Tulsa, Oklahoma

Tuesday, June 27, 2023

9:02 a.m.

eating breakfast

in the Corner Cafe

along Route 66

that summer

in the heart of

his birth city

giving thanks today

on the day of his birth

that he moved to Georgia

and that God brought

us together

January Jaunt

Daily writing prompt
If you had a freeway billboard, what would it say?

If I had a freeway billboard, it would say If you haven’t had pizza for dinner at Frank’s Filling Station on the backside of nowhere in the rural Georgia Countryside off Highway 362 in Hollonville, you haven’t fully lived, ‘specially if you didn’t split a Little Debbie Double Oatmeal Cream Pie with your sweetie for dessert.

dinner wasn’t planned

we just ended up hungry

looking for some food

I was delivering a Facebook Marketplace sale of the last of my Longaberger collection from the 1990s ~ a lidded piece of Christmas pottery. I sold all but one of my baskets a couple of years ago in the sweeping house cleanout, but the pottery popped up needing a better home, and some man in a small silver sportscar pulled up next to us as we waited at Frank’s Filling Station, the designated meeting spot to do the business. I handed him the dish, and he handed me the cash.

The next obvious question at that time of the day was what was for dinner – a common conversation for two tired full-time working folks. We went down the list of possibilities, but nothing was appealing much to either of our appetites.

Wouldn’t it be fun to see if we can each eat dinner on five bucks? I asked my husband, eyeing the filling station and wondering whether they might have a little cafe inside. The place had just been redone a year ago, and neither of us had been inside since. I’d just picked up an easy ten dollars, and I sure didn’t mind splitting it with the love of my life to feed us both. It would be a fun challenge to see if we could stay within budget.

He took me up on it.

I eyed the boiled peanuts. They have regular and Cajun in there, and I do love the spicy ones. Probably not the best choice that close to bedtime, though. I scanned the cooler of local beef from Caldwell Farms and made a mental note to come back for some another time when I planned to cook at home. We spied the barrel tables next to the window and took a look at the food options – cheeseburgers, fries, pizza, chicken wings, hot dogs, and even a fried bologna sandwich. That’s how you know you’re in the country is when you see a fried bologna sandwich.

We settled on the pizza and two bottled drinks, and sat at a table to eat and watch the people coming and going – and that is a lot of excitement on a weeknight for the place where we live. My back was to the door, but when the last two pizzas walked out in the arms of a young man, my husband whispered that he was glad we got ours when we did. It wasn’t fabulous pizza, but it was decent, and that was good enough for a Tuesday night.

Did we stay under budget? Nope. We went over by $1.80 before adding the Oatmeal Cream Pie. We’d already blown the bank, so we splurged on a $2.00 deluxe dessert we could split, and we were grateful for the sustenance.

So if you’ve never had dinner at Frank’s Filling Station in Hollonville, Georgia, add it to your list of things to do if you’re ever an hour south of the Atlanta airport. They also have Hollonville, Georgia t-shirts in there, and those are as rare as hen’s teeth and would make great conversation starters for traveling. Keep a lookout for us ~ we might just be at a barrel table by the window.

Sunday Morning Wake-Up Call

The last day of my winter break before going back to work this morning was not a morning of sleeping in or relaxing. There were things to do that could not seem to wait on a Sunday morning. Perhaps 2026 will be a lot like this ~ getting things done with some sense of urgency. It is already Monday, and we are back at it, both of us, off to work and back into the grind of the routine. I’m holding on tight for the ride.

our Sunday wake-up call came early

on brand-new sheets

not even yet washed

we usually get

a warning: (the wretching)

not this time ~ there it was

between us

regurgitated orange dogfood

Ollie stiff-stepping off the bed

clearly the sick one

6:55 a.m. and on the way

to the sink I saw it in the floor:

he couldn’t hold it, either

to add to the madness

Boo Radley quivered

like Michael Flatley’s feet

hugging my ankles like

a furry shadow

I picked him up

(he never wants to be picked up)

heard the chirp of the smoke detector

and it all came clear: terrors

from his former life

abandonment

in a fly-infested duplex

a smoke detector that drove

him over the edge

like Chinese water torture

with sound

I soothed him

changed our fitted sheet (again)

Briar, meanwhile, thumbed

through his deluxe battery

organizer, changing every

smoke detector 9-volt in the house

Ollie brought me his ball

wanting to play

one toss didn’t hurt

Briar trudged down the stairs

t-shirt and underwear

carrying a vintage step stool

I whispered to Boo:

your daddy’s slain four dragons

singlehandedly just now

and our bed is ready

the dogs and I stepped outside

just off the porch

into the cool, misty fog

suddenly

through the silence

gunfire

I offered a silent prayer

for the deer family

summoned the boys

back indoors

into silence

and clean sheets

7:10 a.m…….(but who can sleep now?)