Family Pictures

My mother’s father, James Earl Jones, holding a family picture, – Christmas 1988

I’m sorting family pictures this month, making piles of who-might-want-what from the Haynes family photo albums. After Dad died, my brother and I discovered tubs and shoeboxes and plastic bins and entire furniture drawers filled with ephemera, memorabilia, sentiments, and photos. And just about everything else (he never threw anything away). Ken and my sister-in-law Jennifer have done the daddy lion’s share of the work of sifting and sorting and all the things that go with closing down a life or two, so these tasks of what remains that can be done from my home five hours north are gratifying and fulfilling to be able to contribute.

Photos were all over the place in the house, but figuring out what to do with them is no small task. I should be more grateful: I’m likely among the last generation of humans who will ever do this sort of thing now that pictures are mostly digital. I wish all of these snapshots were reduced to one simple thumb drive, but the upside is that I’m walking down memory lane and have found a theme for the month of June (and the rest of 2026, in a way): family pictures. Perhaps the easiest way to let go of old photos is to give them their proper moment in the spotlight and then share with others who can decide what fits into their lives to carry forward, and whether to keep or discard them. I have already tossed many, but the remaining ones landed in our truckbed to bring home on our most recent trip south.

If you’re a blog reader who has ever dreamed of taking pen to paper and writing, or if you’re a reader with a blog of your own and would like to join me in sorting your own family photos and sharing your stories, I invite you to come along and see what we can all unearth from the annals of time as we welcome the month of June. There’s really nothing quite like family photos to spark memories that inspire stories and writing.

So to start, I’ve created a system that I hope will help me simplify and sort. Below are the blog logos and themes I plan to use for the remainder of this year using family photos to drive poems and stories. I’m using them to designate piles to sort my photos and begin writing. Under each logo is a caption with the category I’ll use as I sort……I invite you to use the same system and share your photos and stories, too, allowing the memories to drive the writing and the writing to preserve all our family stories and traditions.

Memory Lane Nonet

come walk with me down memory lane

resurrect family members

relive all the best moments

bring the past back to life

then pick up the pen

write the stories

release them

to the

world

Our Own Family, Dogs Included
Extended Family and Ancestors
Travels and Adventures
Travels and Adventures in The Great Outdoors
Celebrating Retirement
Hobbies/Sports/Art/Pastimes
Reading/Books
Gratitudes and Blessings and Family Gatherings
Christmas Travels and Family Visits
Christmases at Home

Botanical Watercolor Masterpiece Mistake

I knew when I painted a fern branch earlier this month that it would be my favorite of all the firsts. It looked real, with the variegated green leaves and authentic stems, like I’d plucked it fresh from the edge of the forest lining my driveway and placed it right here on the paper. It appeals to my simple side – – just two colors and one brush, a recycled coconut Oui glass yogurt container filled with water, and a page-bound piece of watercolor paper. And the directions.

Yes! Finally, something that looked real and that might be framed in an art gallery by some lesser-known semi-famous watercolor artist from a rural town in middle Georgia.

I liked it, so I set out to use the plain white notecards I’d found in the craft section of one of our six local Dollar Generals no more than five miles apart on every map throughout the southeastern United States to create a hand-painted notecard. And I worked and worked and started loving it, too…..until…..

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…two little leaves halfway down the page and to the left of the stem became problematic. Instead of leaving them as their own sort of natural trouble, I started trying to fix them with my human eyes and perceptions of how fern leaves should look. And tried and tried, and ended up with what looked like two leaves on a stem that a novice watercolor human had tried unsuccessfully to fix. Definitely not those up to par with a semi-famous rural watercolor artist.

I’d heard that “all art is fixable,” a long time ago. I decided to text my older daughter, who had been to college as an art major, for tips on what to do. I sent her the picture and asked if she could find the mistake, thinking maybe it was just me, measuring with my own human eyes my perceptions of what a leaf should be. But she, too, found it and marked it up in her phone and sent the photo back like she’d found 1990s-famous Waldo in a red and white striped shirt sticking out like a sore thumb.

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And she suggested what to do to make the art fixable…..painting a caterpillar “or something.” We continued texting, and what I love about texting with my children is that while we are talking about fixing art, we are really talking about life and its universal transfers to deeply held beliefs. I thumbed through my watercolor book and found both a ladybug and a caterpillar and decided on the caterpillar. I did NOT like that ladybug, even though I tried painting it. The legs looked a little off.

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I like, too, that even though she was an art major and has so much natural talent, we are both using our “training wheel” books with the picture already sketched onto watercolor book paper. She will bloom in creativity far more quickly than I will, as she’s already ventured into salt watercolor painting, her own sketches, using filters on her camera to change photos she takes to a watercolor filter to see how she might paint something, and inherently knows more about the artistic techniques that she can apply from other art forms to watercolor painting.

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And I really love that a 59-year old mother trying a new hobby can ask her 39-year old daughter who naturally gravitates to all things art like a duck takes to water, what to do about my fern leaf failure. And I love that I took her advice. I found my caterpillar directions in my training wheel book and painted this caterpillar in a smaller form, over those two bad leaves. And as soon as I began, I knew that my next lesson needed to be on perspective and dimension. I’m not sure whether the watercolor training wheel books can teach those skills, but I’m going to go into every painting henceforth reminding myself that caterpillars in the wild do not dangle like gymnasts on parallel bars from fern leaves. But my daughter, ever the optimist, found a way to add an encouraging sentiment in the text thread.

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I think I like caterpillars on branches much better….and the more conceptual version of leaves, too.

Move over, Eric Carle……there’s a new hungry caterpillar in rural Georgia dangling by one suckerfoot from a fern, eating all the greenery on her quest to grow a pair of painted wings….. and take flight.

big-ass ladybug?

or one fat caterpillar?

either fixes art.

Hydrangea Watercolor Haiku

Whenever I see a hydrangea, I think of two people. The first is my late father, who in his waning days after a lifetime of calling it a hydrangea, called it a hydranjula. Someone had brought one to the hospital, and he urged me to “take that hydranjula” home with me. Either he was used to the constant room changes or he knew his days were quickly coming to an end. I took the flower.

The second is Missy, my childhood friend who gave me a sprig of a hydrangea she’d been rooting. I transplanted it to our farmland home in middle Georgia from the island where we grew up riding bikes all over the place before it became a tourist destination. It must have wanted to be a country hydrangea, living in a quieter, less subtropical place. It’s thriving, despite my neglect of it. These are the kinds of plants I need. The kind I can plant, water, and forget – – and let nature do the rest until time for pruning.

When I saw the blank watercolor page with its step-by-step paint-on-page directions, I had no idea how to create color within color until I learned a little about wet on wet versus wet on dry painting. When a page is wet, the colors bleed together in a way that painting colors on dry pages doesn’t. I can’t think of a better flower choice to learn about wet on wet than a hydrangea, with its blending pop of colors that change based on the pH of the soil. And for once, I had a leaf actually turn out the way it’s supposed to look. I couldn’t have done that when I started, so I am learning a little as I go. I prefer slow, unhurried learning – – and ironically, it’s a lot like watercolor painting where you build layer on layer. I was never a fast learner, but once I finally get it, I’ve got a grasp.

Happy Sunday! Tomorrow, I’ll share our first experience boondocking in a Harvest Hosts site. If you’ve never heard of Harvest Hosts, it’s an innovative way to travel like a complete and total hippie – – which is my ultimate goal for the next chapter of my life. I want to be a hydranjula-painting traveling haiku-writing hippie, and I’ll show you the boondocking part of what that looks like tomorrow.

Hydrangea

the last flower my

father ever gave me was

a hydran-jula

Watercolor Weekend: Fennel

When spring days grow warm and the butterflies appear, I think of my mother and the way she always planted fennel for the Black Swallowtails to lay their eggs. Once a caterpillar breaks out of its chrysalis and greets the world, it is hungry and can munch down practically a whole wispy branch of a fennel stalk. I’ve seen it happen. While I won’t be framing this watercolor painting to hang in my kitchen as the Floral Fun page tip suggests, it does bring to mind the happiest memories of my mother and keeps her memory close.

To the Garden Fennel

those Black Swallowtails

know you’re caterpillar hosts

nursing their offspring

Open Write

Erica and Jessica of Arkansas are our hosts today for the third and final day of the Open Write for May 2026 at http://www.ethicalela.com. They inspire us to write “found” poems not by finding lines or words from other poets by collecting thoughts and ideas of things we find. You can read their full prompt here. It’s a lot like taking a nature walk and instead of collecting pine cones or stones or feathers, poets collect moments and feelings to share.

I visited my brother on Lake Hickory over the weekend, so this morning I’m scrolling back through my photos for my “walk” back through the weekend.

Welcome to North Carolina

Welcome sign greets us into the state

we pull into the driveway overlooking the lake

artist’s palette sunset, dock, pool,

a sloping hill for dogs to play

Mojave sun hat on the boat

tritoon power fast afloat

Ospreys soar and dive for fish

songbirds, praise chimes, fountain wish

boats on sandbar, toasting dreams

wallowing in warm sunbeams

but one more stop while traveling home

Malaprops for treasure-tomes

And then two more,

Black Rock Mountain, Tallulah Gorge

but back to work, a life to forge…..

.

May 16 Open Write Place Based Poetry on a Watercolor Weekend

It’s a Watercolor Weekend and an Open Write weekend, too – and I wish I could have painted the sky last night, but instead I am sharing a painting I started earlier this week and have not yet finished – it’s a Lily of the Valley, and I chose it for the varied shades of blue I feel when I’m around all this water. I’m on the road, so I didn’t bring my paints with me in preference for spending time with my people this weekend. This one didn’t blend well, but I do like the colors.

Our host today for the May Open Write is Jessica, who lives in Arkansas. Today, she inspires us to write about places in our state – anywhere, but particularly considering any hidden or obscure places. I’m in a uniquely-named place this morning – not in my own state, but in North Carolina visiting my brother and sister-in-law, who just bought their dream home right on Lake Hickory. I asked him, “So your house is in Hickory?” He said “No, it’s close…..it’s a Taylorsville mailing address.” And then he elaborated. “It’s actually Bethlehem. Our place on the map is in Bethlehem, North Carolina.” Our late parents would be so proud – Dad, a preacher, and Mom’s favorite Christmas carol was O Little Town of Bethlehem.

It took my breath away when I rolled in just before sunset last night. The sky changed from a watercolor palette to vibrance the opacity of oil with its blues and oranges and pinks a purples. We sat with wineglasses in hand watching it. This morning, a heron and an osprey, already, waving hello with a thousand other birds looking for breakfast. And I saw the Osprey flying high change course, dip down, skim the surface, and catch a fish. It’s spectacular to watch and resembled the eagles I saw in Alaska swooping down for fish so much that it has me wondering…..have I seen an eagle this morning??

So I’m writing about morning lake activity here in Bethlehem, North Carolina

Bethlehem

I think I know

why His eye is on the sparrow

with all the other birds

far more majestic in flight

this tiny song sparrow

may not have the wingspan

of the eagle or the osprey

but it sings praises more

powerfully than all the rest

here in Bethlehem

where songbirds

know the best reason

to sing

Watercolor Welcome: Lemon

Confession time. I was trying my best to wait to read the book I chose to read for Sally Donnelly’s Summer Reading Club, 44 Poems on Being With Each Other by Padraig O’Tuama, but I have not been successful at all. A new book of poetry, for me, is a lot like that bag of M&Ms I try to hide from myself but that won’t quit calling my name until I give in and devour the whole thing. Forbidden M&Ms are like words of poetry – – I can’t quit until the last word in the bag is gone.

And so I have read, savored, pondered, written, and I haven’t gained all the pounds of the chocolate, but I’ve consumed all the delicious indulgence of the page. There’s no sense in feeling the guilt of reading the whole thing early ~ I read it and my clothes still fit, so I’ll celebrate the power of poetry to bring joy and inspire new writing.

I’ve been watercolor painting on weekends, and I decided to take Wendy Cope’s classic poem The Orange on page 224 in the book and allow it to inspire a poem and painting of a lemon, using Cope’s same iambic beat and stanza form. Already, I’m wondering what each poem in this book can inspire in art forms: photography, collage, jewelry design, mosaic, and a million other creative possibilities. I am re-reading already. A huge thanks to Sally Donnelly for inviting us to be part of a kindred gathering of readers.

The Lemon

while camping, I painted a lemon

its colors all citrus-y yellow

curious campers came calling

waving and smiling warm hellos

and that lemon, it brought conversations

of campfires and families and fun

once strangers, now neighbors chit-chatting

on sunshine-y site 301

the “ap-peel” was really surprising

my painting was not all that zesty

but colorful palettes paint friendships

I love my new lemon-y besties

Sally Donnelly’s Book Club and Watercolor Haiku Weekends: Potted Cactus

I’m already dreaming of a summer of reading and all the books on my TBR list – – and I will begin with a collection of poetry. Sally Donnelly, a long-time writing buddy from Two Writing Teachers whom I’ve had the pleasure of meeting on more than one occasion in person at the National Council of Teachers of English Convention, is hosting a Summer Reading Club. You can check out her invitation to participate and her directions to her Padlet here, introducing her selections Dictionary for a Better World by Irene Latham and Charles Waters, and 44 Poems on Being with Each Other, an anthology curated by Padraig O’Tuama. I have had the opportunity of deeply engaging in Dictionary for a Better World a few years ago, so on Wednesday of last week while I was in Atlanta on a personal day to see the musical Six, I treated myself to the guilty pleasure of leisurely browsing a bookstore, where I picked up a copy of 44 Poems on Being With Each Other.

Yesterday, Wildflower Watercolor Week started, and I’m taking a class online to learn more about watercolor techniques. After March bloggers at Slice of Life shared their love of Emily Lex watercolor books when Leigh Anne Eck asked what everyone would bring to a party where technology was not allowed, it brought back memories of strolling through Woodstock, Vermont and seeing one of those themed watercolor books after NCTE was held in Boston a couple of years ago. Slicers resurrected that memory with their love of watercolor books. I picked up an off-brand at Hobby Lobby and shared a couple of my paintings with Glenda Funk, who then found a watercolor class on Facebook and encouraged me to sign up. So I did, and I look forward to learning new techniques from a real person, not a step-by-step book. On weekends throughout March, (and today) as we travel here and there, I’ll be painting and sharing Haiku Watercolors – the semi-good, the bad, and the ugly.

Here’s one of my daughters’ favorites, along with a haiku that mentions one of my favorite poetry collections I’ve read lately: Instructions for Traveling West by Joy Sullivan.

Cactus Coddiwomple

I read about you ~

Instructions for Traveling

West ~ Take me with you!

VerseLove Day 30: Closing Invitation

The final prompt for VerseLove 2026 yesterday was a touching invitation to write, sharing what our writing space has meant this month.

Sarah Donovan has a way of weaving community together like a cherished tapestry so that each voice and thought has a place, each poet shines. And I am in awe – of her, of her poetry, of every voice in my writing community that sustains me and brings joy to all my broken places. I can’t yet write or think or feel since Wednesday afternoon, when I had to hold my beloved Fitz for his last breath and release him…..but even without that little nose nudging me awake and those sweet little eyes staring into mine with full love, I’m better for having been Fitz’s person for the time we had him.

My buddy Fitz watching for deer

Celebrating Through The Tears: A Tribute to Poets in Community

my fingers won’t write
but one thing I know: poets
write hope in the grief

my heart won’t yet beat
but this I know: poets find
pulse in lifelessness

my breath won’t calm down
but what I know: poet friends
reach in, hold hands, sit

my eyes can’t see straight
but I know this: poet friends
jump in the tear pool 

my soul has a hole
and this I know: poet friends
share theirs to fill mine

VerseLove Day 26: Poetic Cartography

Clayton Moon of Thomaston, Georgia is our host today for the 26th day of VerseLove at http://www.ethicalela.com, inspiring us to write poems as cartographers capturing the essence of place through the five senses. You can read his full prompt here.

Hands holding steaming coffee cup on porch railing with sunrise over rolling hills and mist
Enjoying a hot cup of coffee on a rustic porch overlooking a misty sunrise landscape.

Sipping Home

come sit by me

on my front porch

first light rouses, groggy

from the dark of night

into the glorious morning skies

over rolling hills

winking at morning songbirds

praising their Maker

in the misty morning breeze

even as wildfires rage

come sit beside me

raise your coffee to your lips

take the lid off

breathe deeply

in /out/ in/ out

because just like any place

you must take it all in

to experience the rich flavor ~

hear its drip

taste its roasted bean

smell its trademark aroma

feel its piping warmth

see its dark awakenings

against the light of the eastern sky

come sit with me

let’s sip home

together