Luck of the Irish Paint Chip Haiku in Savannah, Georgia

I’ve been in Savannah, Georgia this week for a conference, and everything’s coming up green. The grass is growing, flowers are blooming, and River Street is gearing up for its world-famous St. Patrick’s Day parade in a few weeks. The city becomes a shoulder-to-shoulder party on that day. It all brings back memories of our Senior Skip Days in high school, when we’d pile into cars and make our way from just across the state line in Bluffton, SC to Savannah, Georgia. The whole high school skipped class to honor the seniors, so we basically had four senior skip days during our high school years.

I don’t miss those days – – but I’m glad to have the memories, and I’m glad I was sparkle-sprinkled with the luck of the Irish all those years ago! I think the Irish blessing stays with me most days! Look around ~ my wish for you is that you find some Irish luck today, too.

luck of the Irish

four leaf clover, shamrock green

winter shamrock clover patch

Girls’ Getaway to 1811 Sunflower Farm Cottage in Rutledge, Georgia

We get away a few times a year to

read,

write,

talk,

s

sleep,

eat,

think,

work crossword puzzles,

adventure,

travel,

lounge,

sip wine, and

laugh late into the night.

This time, my sister-in-law and I rented an old farmhouse from 1811 in Rutledge, Georgia for two nights. I’m sharing the photos below. If you ever need a place near the University of Georgia but on the backside of nowhere, check out the 1811 Sunflower Farmhouse on Airbnb. We entertained the ghosts and wondered what their lives were like with 12 children living in the upstairs loft like Laura and Mary of Little House on the Prairie days.

From the time we saw the daffodils greeting us at the front stoop, we knew we’d found a friendly place to spend a couple of nights. The front porch confirmed it, with its lazy rocking chairs and climbing vine with a bird nest hidden in the foliage, looking a little bit like a Goldilocks house without the bears.

We opened the rustic door to the welcoming charm of the antiquated farmhouse and were swept back to 1811, imagining the satisfaction of the new homeowners of a bygone era, who have long since departed this life. The second set of owners had 12 children sleeping in the loft upstairs.

There were no building codes in 1811, and I understood at once after climbing and descending these steps why they threw all the youngsters up there. I went up long enough to get pictures and admire the ceilings and antiques up there, but after my fall on the steps at work a few years ago when I broke my ankle, I held on extra tight. 1811 held elements of danger everywhere. I could not stop thinking about fire and falls, and those were just the two obvious threats.

This is the bed where my sister in law slept, figuring that she was less likely to bang her head on the ceiling if she had to get up in the middle of the night and make her way down to the bathroom on the first floor.

This is the bed where I slept (I’m older than she is, weigh more than she does, and those steps were too steep for me – so I took her up on the offer to sleep downstairs). It was cozy and warm thanks to the electric heater (a look-alike fireplace) tucked into the fireplace at the foot of the bed. The farmhouse does have central heating, but the lack of insulation made the heaters extra-appreciated with the ever-present chill in the air! I’d predicted that with an old house like this, I would need my heated throw, and it sure came in handy!

The front and back doors had different latches to hold them shut at the top and the bottom, but we still had to use the stuffed pillow at the foot to keep the drafts out. Thank goodness for a sister in law who can figure out the tricky latches of yesteryear.

The nostalgia is real, and the tub is beautiful, but let me be clear and completely transparent: this tub ain’t for old people with hips and knees on the verge of collapse. I got to the point where I had to rinse off, but I showered quickly and exited this beauty of a tub. A long soak with salts and bubbles was out of the question. I would not want to climb in and out of an old tub often.

On the description, we noted the farmhouse had a kitchenette, but we were disappointed when we arrived that it was not to be found. Not until one of us went to the bathroom, only to discover that the kitchenette is tucked away – a tiny space all its own behind the water closet (you can see the edge of the toilet in the lower left of the photo). We were glad we finally found it, since we’d stopped to get groceries (yogurt, milk, cheese) so we wouldn’t have to leave if we didn’t want to go anywhere.

I worked a crossword together with my oldest daughter, who lives in Las Vegas. I’d send photos and she’d send answers, and I’d update what I had added. It’s nice having the time to enjoy the unexpected small surprise moments that you can capture on a getaway when you finally have a little time for enjoyment on your hands.

And we all need more of that!


Blue Ridge Writer’s Conference Day 1 : Things I Love

The original courthouse is now the home of the Blue Ridge Arts Council

there’s nothing I don’t love

about the Blue Ridge Arts Center

from its towering columns

of stately presence

to its history and artful womb

this birthing center for

pottery, dance, painting,

sketching, mosaic, sculpture,

stained glass, yoga, tea blends, origami,

jewelry making, drama, weaving,

poetry, plant pressing,

paper mache, woodcarving, and

exhibits of inspiration but what

I love best is that there is something

for everyone ~

including writers

In the first session, I wrote an I’m From poem, which I’ve written several times through the years – but it changes every time.
We also learned about a Color Study. I’ll be featuring this one on Ethicalela.com sometime this year as a prompt.
A Poetry Reading during the Opening Reception in the old courtroom
I love the old sink and the windowsill deep enough to grow friendly flowers.
The Opening Reception was held in the main part of the old courthouse.

Oh, how I wish our county held a writer’s conference. Maybe that’s my next venture, starting in fall of 2026: to conjure up a place for art to happen here in one of the most beautiful places in rural Georgia. If that ever happens, The Art Center at Blue Ridge will be my model. I need an old farmhouse or barn with an exhibit space and smaller spaces for workshops and rooms upstairs for visiting artists and an old sink with a deep window ledge for plants and a fresh pot of coffee……..and I’ll keep dreaming.

Check out this amazing place and all it has to offer here.

Read more about this year’s writing conference here.

The Taste Test

when you want an excuse for more donuts

but don’t want to be seen as a pig

give it another purpose

(pretend you don’t want the donuts)

schedule a

Saturday morning taste test

in the name of science

and product review

line them up

be indecisive

above all

remain inconclusive

with intentions of

another taste test

A Paint Chip Haiku Chain

Nothing thrills me more than going in the hardware store and swiping a few paint chips for writing poems. Today, I’ve taken a variety of colors on a theme and created chained haiku using the words on the chips.

solemn silence ~ hush

meditation time: journal

white – windswept leaves write

a dandelion

wish across green hillside groves

{{spring grass love poems}}

fresh sprout rainwater

mossy cavern healing plants

enchanted meadows

February Open Write Day 4: Inhabiting Life More Fully

Photo by Tirachard Kumtanom on Pexels.com

Amber from Oklahoma is our host today for the fourth day of the February Open Write. She inspires us to write observational haikus, just as the main character in Poet X by Elizabeth Acevedo does. You can read Amber’s full prompt and the poems of others here.

life rhythms in taps

fingers counting syllables

taking it all in

making sense this way

of all that’s illogical

poems can do that

February Open Write Day 3: Healing Hurts

Photo by Min An on Pexels.com

Our host today for the third day of the February Open Write at http://www.ethicalela.com is Britt Decker of Texas. She inspires us to write poems of hurt and healing You can read Britt’s full prompt and the poems of others here. Britt inspires us to write a poem in any form we’d like that considers a moment, object, process, relationship, or anything else, that has simultaneously acted as a healing and hurting agent. 

depths of forgiveness

understood, finally, as

she welcomed her child

February Open Write: Love Poems Inspired by Black Poets

Photo by Djurdjina ph.djiz on Pexels.com

Donnetta Norris of Texas is our host today at http://www.ethicalela.com with a LOVEly invitation for this Saturday morning in February to kick off this month’s Open Write. You can read her full prompt and poem here. Her Paul Laurence Dunbar-inspired poem Invitation to Love in turn inspired me to mirror a poem by a favorite black poet. I love so many – Jericho Brown, Maya Angelou, Gwendolyn Brooks, Clint Black, and many more – – but of course, Lucille Clifton captures my soul in every poem. I fell in love with blessing the boats (at St. Mary’s)when its final line was chosen for the National Poetry Month theme a couple of years ago. She inspired me to lower case my letters in an e.e. cummings style, and I have been doing that ever since in most poems I write. Here is Clifton’s mentor poem I took from The Poetry Foundation as my inspiration for the prayer poem I wrote today:

blessing the boats
                  (at St. Mary’s)

may the tide
that is entering even now
the lip of our understanding
carry you out
beyond the face of fear
may you kiss
the wind then turn from it
certain that it will
love your back  may you
open your eyes to water
water waving forever
and may you in your innocence
sail through this to that

Here is my prayer poem, filled with love:

blessing the children (and theirs)

may these prayers
offered each morning
whispered Heavenward
from the Rav4 road to work
(my prayer chamber)
multiply exponentially
with peace, health, safety,
sobriety, love, joy, provision, and
all good things
may these intercessions
meet you where you are and
keep you in God’s grace
may they stir in your heart
blessing you and yours
with a holy head kiss
divine in all love
lingering through the years
forever

Amen.

Let Them!

First, I checked the library, and there were dozens on the waiting list for the ebook and the audiobook. It would be months before it would be available.

Then, I checked my local bookstore in my small town. They were all sold out.

I kicked myself. I’d had my hand on a copy in a mega bookstore two weeks ago and had put it back, thinking I’d wait and either check it out to read it for free or support my small town bookstore instead of purchasing it right then and there. as I’d really wanted to do – to dive into it and lose myself in the words and the affirmations and head-nodding I knew would happen in those chapters. Lessons I needed and lessons I already knew.

Then came the first phone call. My husband’s brother’s wife, whom I still call my own sister-in-law and who’d read the book after she’d written her own on a similar topic just months before, had good things to say.

Then the second phone call. My brother’s wife, too, was in the thick of chapter 4 and couldn’t put it down.

I hung up and ordered a copy, which arrived on Saturday morning. By Saturday afternoon, I was halfway finished – and my husband had been as interested as I was once it arrived, so I used an Audible credit to download it so he could listen as I read (note: the Audible version, read by the author, doesn’t follow the book exactly – – it’s like an engaging conversation, and it pulled us both right in).

And here we are, all the better, with a new mindset.

I’ll let them do it.

I won’t try to persuade them.

I’ll mind my business.

I’ll stay in my lane.

I’ll flash my own turn signals.

I’ll drive my own car.

I’ll map my own route.

I’ll schedule my own detours.

I like scenic routes.

I’m out of the fray.

I’m not making their choices.

They’ll have to do that.

.

.