Any answers I will ever find from the universe won’t be written in the sky in trailing airplane smoke.
They’ll come from one of two places.
The most likely place will be in the lines of verse, whether Biblical or modern poetic. Those golden lines, illuminated not in their own context, but in the context of circumstance, hold ancient wisdom and divine truth.
The second most likely place is outside my bathroom window in the voices of birdsong as I’m getting ready for the day. I often crack the window open just a tad when I’m showering and putting on my makeup – just to hear the lilting melodies of my feathered friends. Sometimes it’s almost as if I can understand what they’re feeling, despite the lack of words. Just this morning, a Northern Cardinal called, “cheer-cheer-cheer, purdy, purdy, purdy,” like she was cheering my cosmetics to do their prettying.
The more I observe birds and use my Merlin app to help me identify the different species by their calls, the more I find myself focused on their messages.
Somewhere in between what sounds like I should make a call to report a Tufted Titmouse domestic fight and the cooing of pure love doves outside my windows, I listen. Quietly. The words and feelings I need to hear are no farther away than my own back yard…..
Lately I’ve been grounding myself in my rural Georgia blessings by rereading Gladys Taber‘s books about her life on her farm, Stillmeadow, in the hills of Connecticut. Every sentence she writes, it seems, takes me to comforting places that fill me with the joy of memories and the inspiration to carry on the traditions and legacy that my mother left.
In the August chapter of Stillmeadow Calendar A Countrywoman’s Journal, Gladys shares, “Corn stands silken in the field, chicory stars the roadside, and goldenrod mints her coin. The kitchen smells of spices and syrups, ming and sweet pepper. It is the time of “putting up,” a rewarding time for country-folk. I believe it is an instinct in man to store things against the winter, even when there is a supermarket a few blocks or miles away. It is part of the rhythm of life.”
When my children were young, I’d meet my mother at the halfway point so that the kids could visit a week every summer with their grandparents. Just a few weeks ago, as I was visiting one of my girls, we passed a Dairy Queen.
“That makes me think of all those times Mimi would take us to get a Cotton Candy Blizzard,” she shared. “Those were the best days of my life. I loved making strawberry pigs with Mimi.”
My mother had a fig tree, and they’d all go out and pick figs in the back yard and strawberries from a neighbor’s patch. Mom would get out the pressure cooker and a box of clean Mason jars and lids. Everyone had a job to do well beyond the picking – – washing figs, hulling strawberries, slicing fruits, measuring sugar, stirring. It was a day-long event with everyone fully-aproned, and they stocked our pantry and theirs with all the toast topping they needed for the coming winter months.
My grown children still call strawberry figs “strawberry pigs,” from their days of childhood mispronunciations.
When we moved onto the Johnson Funny Farm in 2008, I found a little twig of a scratch-and-dent turkey fig on the clearance rack at Home Depot and bought it for $3.00. My husband put up the orange plastic netting around it to keep from running the tractor over it, and today it stands taller than a clown on stilts and is more solid than any prize bull.
My scratch-and-dent clearance fig
I walk out to the fig tree this morning, inspecting the forthcoming fruits, anticipating their ripening. A fig harvest heralds the end of summer and beginning of fall – my favorite time of year! And I feel my mother’s arm around my shoulders, erasing all distance between heaven and earth, assuring me that the time spent doing simple things with those we love is the best gift of all. The simple act of making memories transcends years, space, and distance and preserves the togetherness and belonging – – the “putting up” of love scooped and slathered freely like a medicinal balm at the twist of a jar lid when it’s needed in the winters of our lives.
Several years ago, my father sent me a stack of books from his collection by Gladys Taber.
“Read these,” he urged. “You’ll see yourself in these pages.”
So I did. And he was right.
Gladys Taber lived on a farm named Stillmeadow in the Connecticut hills, where she wrote for Family Circle, Redbook, Ladies’ Home Journal, McCall’s, Good Housekeeping, and other popular magazines. She published over 50 books.
I live on the Johnson Funny Farm in middle Georgia, where I make a feeble attempt to add to my blog every day.
Gladys was a lover of animals. She raised her precious, spoiled rotten Cocker Spaniels and treated them like her children. She even made friends with 2 skunks.
I’m smitten with our three Schnoodles. We call them our four-legged sons and share our meals with them at every sitting. I watch birds and serve them specialty seed.
Gladys and her friend Barbara Webster exchanged letters for years, even publishing one full year of correspondence between their farms in Stillmeadow and Sugarbridge, sharing details of farm life in the 1950s.
I’m fond of mailing postcards to family and friends.
Gladys’s love of the countryside is evident in every carefully crafted sentence, rich in her descriptions of the simple pleasures of farm life.
We, too, are so fond of our corner of this planet that we audibly say, “Ah, back in God’s Country,” when we come back home from anywhere else. We’re “those folks” who take Sunday evening drives just to admire the landscape and praise the Creator for the rolling hills and the cows in the meadows. We catch our breath with every rustic charm – split-rail fences, old barns, rocking chairs on porches, sweet tea in mason jars, sheets blowing in the wind on a clothesline, clumps of wildflowers at the base of a mailbox.
I turn to the July pages of Stillmeadow Calendar and begin.
“July comes to Stillmeadow clad in silk-blue dawns, blazing gold noons, and violet dusks. Heat glazes the air, leaves droop, and the pond level begins to drop. But night is lovely as a dream, and we can go outdoors without a sweater. Sitting in the garden is inadvisable because the mosquitoes and gnats are busy, but a brief walk is possible.”
I connect with Gladys. These could be my own words now, 80 years later.
I glance out at the drooping leaves, heavy with the heat of the day here in middle Georgia and look to the western horizon, the copper tangerine sun hanging low in the branches and think, “What did I ever do to deserve this slice of heaven on earth?”
And for a moment, I feel the knowing spirit of Gladys here with me, nodding enthusiastically, urging me to love it while I can. She’s smiling from a better place, assuring me that for now, this’ll do.
Saturdays in 2023 are still savory. We begin the day with coffee and a bite to eat somewhere before spending the day together. We are blessed that our jobs allow us to have some common weekend time to get out and enjoy life, and we don’t take that for granted!
Smitty’s in Woodbury, Georgia was our choice on Saturday. Our friend Bob Oxford owns this restaurant, and his brother Mike helps out on weekends. Their mother, “Miss Jewel” Oxford, was the oldest living member of Concord Baptist Church, where we attended years ago. Her fried pies were delicious, and Bob still makes those pies from time to time, taught by the best! When I served on a pastor search committee with Bob, he’d bring those pies to the meetings, and they went lickety-split!
I enjoy rereading some of my rural life go-to books occasionally as we wait on our breakfast to arrive. Yesterday’s choice was Stillmeadow and Sugarbridge by Gladys Taber and Barbara Webster. Their exchange of letters from the 1950s between their homes in Pennsylvania and Connecticut describes country living at its finest. I like to feel part of that, particularly when my biscuit is made from scratch that very morning, and with each bite I think of the simple joys of rural life not afforded in big cities.
We also made a rare discovery: Georgia peaches! Most of Georgia’s peach crop was lost this year, so coming by Georgia peaches has been close to impossible – – until yesterday! We stopped at a produce stand in Woodbury and found them. I bought two large baskets to slice and eat with our yogurt this coming week. It’s breakfast today, before tuning in to You Tube to hear Dad preach at St. Simons Island First Baptist Church. Our son and his family, home waiting on Baby #5 to make her appearance, will be watching, too!
Our time yesterday was spent driving and birdwatching. My husband is a former deputy in the county where we live, and as a current elected official, he also enjoys time to get out and ride the roads to check conditions and washouts on the dirt roads. We both love this quiet time for different reasons, but it works all the same. He reminisces about the experiences he’s had here throughout his life, and I watch and listen for birds.
Way back in the day, Flat Shoals was filled with hundreds of people on weekends (“mostly drunk,” my husband added, thinking back on the times he had to respond to calls out in this area). It was a popular place to bring a cooler and an inner tube or raft and find a spot in the rock shallows on the shoals to stay cool all weekend. Today, you might see a few fishermen angling to stock their freezers for the next fish fry.
We were there for the birds.
I logged seven new species in the county yesterday along the waterways here at Flat Shoals. Through birdwatching and long Saturday drives followed by coffee together in the morning, I find that I get through the stress of the work week better when I know I have the weekends just around the next corner.
While others are packing our local air-conditioned movie theater to see Barbie, we have a front-row seat to the birds!
Our host today for the fourth day of the July Open Write at http://www.ethicalela.com is Shelby from Michigan, who inspires us to write poems about special places in our lives. You can read her full prompt here, along with the poems of others. I have written a nonet, which has nine lines in ascending or descending order, and has the line order number of syllables on its lines. I attended elementary school on St. Simons Island, Georgia, where recess was almost always before lunch – – when it was cool enough to be outdoors.
Recess Nonet
my elementary school playground its blacktop hot as a griddle sizzling in the island sun where we rolled each other in castoff car tires spinning childhoods dappled in live oak shade
Our host at http://www.ethicalela.com for the third day of the July Open Write is Susan Ahlbrand of Indiana, who inspires us to write Venn Diagram poetry today. You can read her full prompt and the poems others have written here, and even try one of your own if you wish.
This is one form that I have never written before today, and honestly I’m not sure I’m coordinated enough to try again. My brain felt like Spaghetti Junction in Atlanta, where all the intersections dance and spin and twirl around and then peel off in different directions like little spinoff tornadoes.
The idea is to play with two completely different concepts or ideas and find the intersecting similarity in the middle section of the diagram, reading vertically.
I could only take a photo of my mess and post it. Other writers in my group are using Canva and making backgrounds beautiful and doing all the creative colors and designs, but I’m over here with an ink pen and an unlined piece of brown paper just trying not to be seen or heard…….
But in the spirit of having some good days of writing and some not-so-good days of writing, here is a day in the life of a writer who at least tries something new and different.
I’m putting back on my work hat after a truly wonderful summer. Today is my first day back on contract, as my district awaits the appointment of a new Superintendent.
And so these hats, as constant as they are, keep life in balance!
We were taking an aerial tramway ride back down from 10, 378 feet above sea level from the summit of Sandia Peak to Albuquerque, New Mexico over the Cibola National Forest when I spotted a hawk that appeared to be riding the cable up to the peak.
How ironic, I thought. I’d been birding at the peak, counting my species and entering them into eBird, using Merlin ID to help lead me to the trees where they sang their identifying birdcalls. I’m always on the lookout for larger birds. I’d seen a Road Runner under a picnic table seeking shade from the brutal heat in Palo Duro Canyon State Park in Texas the day before, and after peering into all the trees and in the air for signs of these majestic soaring birds of prey, here was one comically riding the cable up to the top as I descended.
That’s my mama, I chuckled. She comes to me on wings. A bird in the depths of a canyon one day, and a bird in the heights on a peak the next. Three vultures when I’d prayed for the reassurance of an eagle at her burial.
“Is that a bird riding the cable?” I heard someone ask the tram operator.
“Oh, yes. That’s our resident hawk. He likes to ride the cable,” she explained. “When wildlife below falls beneath the shadow of the tram car, it scares his prey out of hiding. They run, and he swoops down for a fast-food-lunch. Makes his hunting easier.”
He gives the drive-thru a whole new perspective from the avian angle.
He also demonstrates his experience and intelligence. Here’s a bird who has figured out how to let a shadow do his heavy lifting while he sits and waits.
I’m inspired to think of all the times I make things so much harder than they have to be, when perhaps some creative thinking and a little patience would serve me well.
Which may be exactly what Mama was showing me.
On the top of Sandia Peak in Albuquerque, New Mexico
At the end of each month, (or beginning), I review my yearly goals and spend some time reflecting on how I’m doing in living the life I want to live ~ a way of becoming my own accountability partner and having frequent check-ins to evaluate my progress. I’m still in the process of revising some of my goals as I encounter successes…..and setbacks. I’ve worked on learning new photography techniques, and that knowledge is being put to great use for my nephew’s new dog business website (success!), but it’s hard to travel Route 66 with all its burgers and fries, coneydogs and shakes….and great desserts….without gaining weight (setback!). So new goals have asterisks for the month of July, when I will report on them in a few weeks. For the month of June, here’s my goal reflection:
Category
Goals
My Progress
Literature
*Read for Sarah Donovan’s Book Group
Send out Postcards
Blog Daily
* Write at least 2 chapters for writing group’s book
Ethicalela.com has a new book group! First Book: Healer of the Water Monster by Brian Young (https://shorturl.at/coAHN
I continue to send out postcards – I would estimate about 30 this month alone, with travel along Route 66!
I continue to blog daily, and the daily writing and reflecting is a wonderful habit for me. I don’t feel complete without some form of daily writing,
My writing group is writing a series of new books, and I will spend time writing chapters for these in July.
Creativity
Improve blog photos
*Make a rag quilt for a new grandbaby
*Create Shutterfly Route 66
My nephew asked me to make photos for his new business website, so maybe the new techniques I’m learning mean that I’m improving in photography!
I am having a new grandbaby this month, so a new quilt will be on the month’s menu!
I’ll create a canvas or two, along with a photo book using our Route 66 photos! (Oh, and I got creative with spray paint, too – graffiti is fun!).
Spirituality
Tune in to church
Pray!
Keep OLW priority
We will tune in to church by radio or YouTube and catch up with services missed while on the road traveling.
My car is still my prayer chamber for daily prayer, but I’m shifting it to the shower for summer, since sometimes I my habits change when I’m off contract at work for the summer. I’m still keeping my OLW my priority: pray!
Reflection
Write family stories
Spend time tracking goals each month
I’ll be sharing more family stories through small moment experiences along Route 66 in the coming days.
I’m tracking goals, revising, and considering some new categories as I look at my goal table.
Self-Improvement
*Reach top of weight range
This is a setback for me this month. Part of May and all of June was not a good one for weight. I’ve gained back about a third of the weight I had lost, and I need to transition to Weight Watchers point counting, which has been the plan since starting Optavia. I need to make the shift for July – and stay out of the retro diners with burgers, fries, and shakes.
Gratitude
Devote blog days to counting blessings
The gratitude category was strong for the month of June. At every turn of the corner along Route 66, I realized the beauty and wonder of our great nation and its history. I shared the amazing experience of travel with Briar’s brother and his wife this month. I also visited one of my children last month in Kentucky and will visit another one this month in South Carolina. Life is good!
Experience
Embrace Slow Travel
Focus on the Outdoors
While I covered a lot of distance in the month of June with road trips through Georgia, Tennessee, Kentucky, Illinois, Missouri, Kansas, Oklahoma, Texas, and New Mexico (NINE states in ONE month!), the pacing was relaxed. I didn’t try to do too much in one place – – I enjoyed the moments! I visited Dunbar Cave State Park in Tennessee, Palo Duro Canyon State Park in Texas, and Sandia Peak in New Mexico to enjoy the outdoors and the grand views of nature and experience time in the great outdoors. I’ve been way far up and way far down on landforms and in goals, but it just goes to show that the peaks and the valleys can both be beautiful places that give us unique views!
Angie Braaten is our host at http://www.ethicalela.com today for the final day of this month’s Open Write. She encourages us to write a poem about what we would like to be when we grow up. You can read her full prompt here.
Secret Badge
when I grow up I want to be a traveling food critic a descriptive writer of all things edible…. ….(or not)….. all expenses paid to go out into the world and live it up like a spy on a secret mission with an official foodie badge that I keep covered until the end of the meal…. ….(or forever)…… unless I want immediate preferential seating or my glass runs dry or I get bad service then I whip it out like some veiled threat of a viral review that might shut the place down ….(or something)……
oh and a hotel critic too I want to be one who jumps on beds to test the comfort rolls around in the sheets and fills the bathtub to overflowing with expensive bubble bath with little flecks of real gold dust and eats all the snacks that cost twelve dollars each for free in those presidential suites with corner windows on the top floor one who shows my badge at checkout
and I want an airplane badge, too so I can cut the line at security and go in my own private room where the rest of everyone all tired-legged and eyeing my complimentary plate of sugared grapes and chocolates whispers who is she?? but I play it cool never revealing my name like no one can know who I am a secret traveling critic as I take my seat in first class throw my feet up on the plush footrest whip out my review computer and write away into the clouds ….(or just dream about it all)….
then go home to the country and press wildflowers and read poetry and bask in full-face dog kisses with whole-body tail wags because I’m back where I belong …..(without a badge)…….
Common Threads 