Boo Radley, Ollie, and Fitz hiking the red and white trails of FDR State Park in Georgia. I do not own the rights to this music.
Our time on this Thanksgiving getaway is coming to a close for now, but instead of starting the campsite breakdown as we normally do on the last afternoon of our camping adventures, we took an impromptu hike with the boys on the trails of F. D. Roosevelt State Park in Pine Mountain, Georgia. I’m sharing a video of their tail-wagging joy as Boo Radley, Ollie, and Fitz traversed the terrain.
We met another couple hiking, and the wife observed, “Looks like you have your own sled dog team!” I chuckled because I am always referring to them as our sled dogs. When my sister in law walked them with me this week, she was surprised by how hard they pull. I told her that if there were snow on the ground, we could put on skis and they’d pull us all around the campground. Truth.
Our Georgia State Parks offer different types of clubs for kayakers, canyon climbers, dog walkers, and cyclists. Tails on Trails seems like it would be a healthy challenge for the two humans belonging to these three canine trail enthusiasts for 2024, so already I’m thinking of working it into a yearly goal.
As we sat around the campfire last night, I turned on the green sparkle lights and watched them dancing like tiny fairies in the trees as I reflected on what I loved most about the week- being able to get away and enjoy time in nature with family, spending time with each other and with our dogs, and truly taking time to give thanks for our blessings. Time. Togetherness. Thanksgiving.
These are the parts of the week that meant the most to me.
I’m a fan of author Tom Ryan. My strongest reading personality is that of a non-fiction reader, where the reading takes me into the lives of people and places I may never meet or see in person. I also like fiction, but I believe that my life has been changed far more from the non-fiction reading I’ve ever done than from the fiction. Tom Ryan’s love of his rescue dog Atticus (a Schnauzer) in his book Following Atticus and his rich descriptions of hiking the White Mountains for a friend who was dying of cancer is just the type of book that grabs my heart.
The first question anyone asks me when I recommend the book is, “Does the dog die?” No, not in the first book. But the friend with cancer does, and Tom hikes and eats a vegetarian diet because he nearly did. Will’s Red Coatwas the second book by Tom Ryan, and of course this one holds a few more tears when he adopts an aging rescue dog and brings it to the summit – not just the mountain, but the summit of life itself. And if there were ever a beautiful dog death, Will experienced it.
I shared the books with my friend Jayne, but she’d had to wait a while to read them, since she was on the heels of a dog loss herself and couldn’t face the emotions. After a time of grief, she read them and loved his books so much that she subscribed to his Substack and also gifted me a subscription as well. Now we both follow Tom Ryan on his coddiwomples around the nation when he sets out on adventures with Emily and Samwise. I’m giving the gift subscriptions to the two of us this year – – we both find that his writing soothes us and gives us a sense of joy and peace – especially when he shares his videos.
I was reading a post a couple of days ago that he invited subscribing readers to make public after three days. You can read it here. As I was reading about the support for his Jewish readers by Christian readers who were requesting Hanukkah cards from him this year (he sends them out for certain levels of membership), I came to this sentence: “I’m right there with you, folks, and this non-practicing Irish Catholic will have my electric menorah in my window each night of Hanukkah.” He closed by stating he wasn’t sure whether this would help during such troubling times, but wanted to assure them that they were not alone.
That lit a spark in me, just like those Christmas eve candles that people light from flame to flame down an entire row until the whole church is glowing.
I made a decision right there to join Tom Ryan by doing the same thing. I ordered a menorah with candles that will sit on a table next to our Christmas tree. Let me make it clear that I’m not converting religions. Let me make it equally clear that I’m strong enough in my own religious beliefs that I don’t feel threatened by inviting another religious symbol into my home. That’s not who we are. Our roots of Christianity are firmly attached to Judaism with Abraham at the helm, and my belief system includes Father Abraham and his tribe as a part of the lineage so important to my own Christian roots. My arms and heart are big enough to reach out. We will embrace our Jewish friends, honor their beliefs, and pause to think of them and the injustices that they are suffering.
To set up a menorah with its candles that we will light beginning on December 7 is to embrace an entire culture of people under attack who cannot light their own this year. To light the candle each evening will be to hold sacred moments for innocent people who are under attack by those who are evil, who will never know the peace of a silent night.
I want to thank Tom Ryan for inspiring me to join hands with him and to be reminded that we are, all of us, able to make choices about how we respond to situations. In a world where we can be anything, we should at the very least be kind souls who stand by others, whether we practice their same beliefs or not. After all, I have to believe that Jesus, the King of the Jews, whom we serve, will be tearfully embracing us all as we share in the sorrows of mankind.
As I reflect on last night’s campground fire, I reflect back on Thanksgiving yesterday and the month of November with all its blessings, thinking of Gladys Taber’s Stillmeadow Calendar. Her books, many of them, are divided by month and season. To open November, she writes, “Teatime comes early at Stillmeadow now. I hang the kettle over the embers, bring out the toasting fork, and open the sweet-clover honey.”
The campground where we are staying is full. Driving through yesterday, we noticed a few empty spots, but as the evening progressed, campers slowly arrived and set up for Thanksgiving gatherings. It may seem odd that folks would choose to camp on Thanksgiving Day, but many of them may be going to feast with nearby relatives and prefer sleeping in their own space. Some may have dogs and find that travel is so much more affordable with pets when they can bring them along. Others, like us, feel a heightened sense of gratitude when we are close to nature.
So how does someone prepare a Thanskgiving feast at a campground, in the absence of an oven?
It takes a little prior planning, but the key is to keep the menu simple. We were cooking for 6 adults. My sister in law brought banana pudding from our favorite local restaurant, dressing she prepared at home, and a gallon of sweet tea, a half gallon of unsweet tea, and strawberries with dip. At the campground, we prepared the turkey, green bean casserole, rolls, sweet potatoes, macaroni and cheese, and cranberry sauce.
The turkey cooked all night on low. I purchased a Jennie-O Turkey Breast, 8.73 pounds, the largest size that would fit in my crock pot. I inserted a crock pot liner, then washed the turkey and placed it in the pot, skin side up. Next, I added about two cups of bone broth (not chicken stock, but actual bone broth) and then sprinkled half a package of dry ranch dressing mix over the top of the breast. Then, I closed the lid at 7 pm and set it on low to cook all night. We are inside a camper, so we do not have to worry as much about bears.
The turkey cooked all night, filling the camper with the great smell of a forthcoming Thanksgiving feast. Even the dogs could hardly wait!
The rolls and cranberry sauce may have been the easiest sides to prepare: King’s Hawaiian Rolls in a bag, and a can of Ocean Spray Cranberry Sauce did the trick. The sweet potatoes were steamed in the microwave in a bag. I purchased two 1.5 pound bags of Simply Perfect Sweet Steamers, which took 8 minutes per bag. We added a touch of butter, then sprinkled with cinnamon and turbinado sugar. The macaroni and cheese was also prepared in the microwave. We prepared a four-pack of individual microwave tubs and combined them in one bowl.
I brought an extra crock pot for the green bean casserole. Again, I used a crock pot liner and mix the recipe right in the bag, gave it a good stir, and set it on low for two hours starting at 10 a.m. I increased it to medium for the last half hour.
If you’re wondering how we run the microwave simultaneously with two crockpots, we pull extra power off the post outlet. Most campers can’t handle all that power, so we bring an extension cord and run it off the second outlet on the electric post. From there, we set up a small table and and outlet strip for the crock pots to keep doing their thing. This frees up the picnic table for us to gather and eat.
Thanksgiving Day was chilly, but we kept warm in the tent we placed over our picnic table, making our dining room! We used a small space heater to warm the area, and after dinner we moved outdoors to sit around the fire and talk before we had dessert. My sister in law plugged in her electric lap blanket to stay extra warm and snuggled in with one of the dogs.
I reflect on the day and count all of our blessings – family, health, dogs, food, warmth, and each other. And I look forward to closing my eyes and drifting off – the best kind of tired and happy!
This week, Fran Haley and I are hosting the November Open Write at http://www.ethicalela.com. Come join us as we write poetry together. You can read Fran’s full prompt on the website along with the poems of others or the prompt only, here below.
Title: Belonging
Our Host
Fran Haley is a literacy educator with a lifelong passion for reading, writing, and dogs. She lives in the countryside near Raleigh, North Carolina, where she savors the rustic scenery and timeless spirit of place. She’s a pastor’s wife, mom of two grown sons, and the proud Franna of two granddaughters: Scout, age seven, and Micah, age two. Fran never tires of watching birds and secretly longs to converse with them (what ancient wisdom these creatures possess!). When she’s not working, serving beside her husband, being hands-on Franna, birding, or coddling one utterly spoiled dachshund, she enjoys blogging at Lit Bits and Pieces: Snippets of Learning and Life.
Inspiration
As Kim Johnson mentioned in yesterday’s Open Write: Come April, she and I will be honoring National Poetry Month by facilitating discussion of The Hurting Kind, the most recent book by current U.S. Poet Laureate Ada Limón (you can join us via Sarah Donovan’s new Healing Kind book club).
Let me linger a moment on the word healing. How often, how long, have we cried out for healing as individuals, families, communities, nations, humankind? When a group of students asked me what superpower I’d want most, that’s what I said. Healing. Oh, to lessen suffering, restore wholeness, impart peace…
In contemplating the despair and destruction of our times—of our human history, honestly—I cannot help picking up the inextricable thread of belonging. Think on this: How much pain stems from the need to belong? To know, to have, a safe place of being?
In a May 2022 interview with Angela María Spring of Electric Lit, Limón speaks of inspiration for The Hurting Kind: “We are all part of a community, we’re all connected. And sometimes we work so hard at trying to fit in somewhere to find our community, to figure out what it is that makes us connected…you’re already connected. You already have all that you need. And it’s in everything that’s come before you and it’s in everything that’s going to come after.”
That is the spirit of today’s poetry writing.
Process
Read Limón’s poem, “Ancestors”. Note that her images and metaphors are drawn from nature. She writes, exquisitely, of being from rocks, trees, and the “lacing patterns of leaves,” concluding with “I do not know where else I belong.” There are telling lines about roots and survival.
Considering the whole of your life: Which places impart the greatest sense of belonging to you? Why? Concentrate on details and possible symbolism of these settings. What’s the story? Which people are connected to these places? They’re often, but not always, family.
Try writing free verse or a prose poem incorporating these meaningful images, perhaps borrowing the phrases I’ve come here from and/or I do not know where else I belong.
Fran’s Poem
Origins
(after Ada Limón’s “Ancestors”)
I come here by way of the king’s river a moody expanse, as vast as the sea gray-green depths with bell-topped red buoys bobbing, bobbing Right, red, returning —a rite of passage
I’ve come here from bridges yes, most of all from bridges
traversed by my predecessors seeking livelihood
—did they ever encounter bridges in their dreams
the way I have? Distorted structures of dizzying heights
spanning waters at dead of night absurd angles
impossible to navigate
I never think I can
but I always find my way.
Like a pigeon, released
driven by some coding deep in my DNA
I’ve forsaken the riverside the mammoth steel cranes
the sound of buzz saws, rivet-guns,
metal striking metal —over time, making a man lose his hearing
to return, to roost here in the dawn lands where abandoned gray houses and weathered-wood barns sink decade by decade into the earth
—for it always takes back its own
where white-spotted fawns
guarded by their mothers
step like totems from sun-dappled woods
swelling with cicada chorus
—little living buzz saws echoing, echoing in my blood the generational song
—I don’t know where else I belong.
Your Turn
Kim’s Poem
Ancestors Speak (inspired by Ada Limon’s Ancestors)
Fran Haley and I are this week’s hosts of the November Open Write at http://www.ethicalela.com. Each month, this writing group gathers to write for five days. We rotate as hosts and participants, and we provide encouraging feedback to other writers. Come read and write some poetry with us! You can find the direct link here. You’ll meet fellow writers who become the kinds of friends who know you better than those you see in person.
Instructions on Being a Dragonfly – an Ada Limon-inspired Poem
Our Host
Kim Johnson, Ed.D., lives on a farm in Williamson, Georgia, where she serves as District Literacy Specialist for Pike County Schools. She enjoys writing, reading, traveling, camping, sipping coffee from souvenir mugs, and spending time with her husband and three rescue schnoodles with literary names – Boo Radley (TKAM), Fitz (F. Scott Fitzgerald), and Ollie (Mary Oliver). You can follow her blog, Common Threads: Patchwork Prose and Verse, at www.kimhaynesjohnson.com.
Inspiration
As part of Sarah Donovan’s Healing Kind book club, Fran Haley and I will be facilitating a discussion of The Hurting Kind by Ada Limon in April to celebrate National Poetry Month. Preparing for these conversations led us to choose several of Limon’s poems this week as inspirations of topic, form, or title. In Instructions on Not Giving Up, Limon illustrates the glory of spring through an unfurling leaf as a tree takes on new greening after a harsh winter.
Process
Use Limon’s poem as a theme or topic, form, or title (or combination of these) to inspire your own Instructions poem.
Kim’s Poem
I’m reflecting on a moment I spent beside a lake watching dragonflies dart around chasing each other as my inspiration for today’s poem, borrowing a couple of starter lines from our U.S. Poet Laureate to drive my thinking about form. The greening of Limon’s tree leaves and new growth reminded me of the color changing moltings that dragonflies undergo throughout their lives as they continuously evolve.
One decade ago – that’s how long ago we built this Christmas tree. We raided the reading room, where I used to have six bookcases crammed full of books (I still have the six bookcases, but I have done the anguishing work of paring down my collection over these years, letting go of some keepers).
I think of the work that we did. Find all the tall ones, and place them flat in a circle. Then, we discussed how to proceed. Find the next size down, a little thicker, and place them about a half inch inside the ring of the floor books. And so on, and so forth. String the lights, and light it up! At the top, as I recall, we’d placed a wooden chest with a Bible in it.
Every Christmas holds its magic, and over time, ideas and traditions come and go. I’m grateful today for the memories of the years, right back to the 1960s tinsel trees that I remember in my grandparents’ homes, the real trees that smelled like Frasier forests, and the Charlie Brown trees of the years that didn’t turn out like we’d planned. There was a tree that had little teeny spiders all in it the year I’d made a new sequined tree skirt, and they all climbed down and decided as a group to die right there in it, leaving little black spots everywhere. And, of course, the tree that leaned, that we fixed, then leaned, then we fixed, then fell with a hefty burglar size thud in the middle of the night, breaking precious ornaments and sloshing water everywhere.
To the magic of Christmas ~ and all it holds for us, past, present, and future – I raise my morning coffee. I’ll see A Christmas Carol on the stage of the Alliance Theater tonight in Atlanta, Georgia, and I’ll be thanking Charles Dickens for all of the versions of this classic Christmas tale as we know them today, as well as the traditions that had not yet arrived in England from Germany until he published this book – including the Christmas tree.
A few years ago, I began reading more about the Danish concept of hygge and learning about the ways to create comfort – at home and in life. Ambient candlelight, toasty socks, hearty meals of soups and stews, warmth of fireplaces, soothing sounds of music, and coziness of blankets and sweaters. The enjoyment sitting by the fire with the dogs as I write and sip hot tea. These small measures of comfort go a long way in self-care.
One author who brings all the feels of hygge is Gladys Taber. This morning, I read about November long ago from her book Stillmeadow Sampler, published in 1950. This book was a gift from my father last Christmas, and is signed by Eugenia Price in 1977 as a gift to Lady Jane.
Below, I share an excerpt:
Now, toward the end of November, rain falls steadily and it is a chilling rain. The bare branches look black and the browns in the meadows are deepened. The pond’s level rises and we can hear the water pouring over the dam and on into George’s brook. The small-paned windows of the house are a wash of silver. The lamps go on early in the day.
When we go out to do the chores, the air smells of wet fallen leaves. It is a curious musty smell, but pleasant. Jill brings in an apple log from the woodpile and the fire burns brightly. The Cockers and the Irish doze on the warm hearth. It’s a good time to have Brunswick Stew, that delectable combination of chicken, tomatoes, lima beans and corn simmered with seasonings in the old iron soup kettle.
When the rain finally ends, usually at dusk, the whole world looks polished. The horizon has a rosy glow. The air is like vintage wine, properly cooled. When we open the door, the dogs rush out and dash around the house. Rain’s over, rain’s over, they say, barking happily. Inside, with the rose-colored light coming in the windows, the house takes on new life. The milk glass gleams, the brass and copper shine. And the soup kettle is ready to be lifted from the crane, the popovers are hot.
“Next thing we know,” says Jill, dishing up the stew, “it will be snowing.”
I glance over at my dogs, deep in a morning snooze, and glimpse my mother’s rippled swiss dot milk glass on the kitchen counter. I think of her recipe for E-Z Brunswick Stew, and I take it from the recipe box to share with you today. Though Mom is no longer here with us, her legacy lives on through her recipes and memories.
Our second grandson was born on this day nine years ago, and what a blessing he is in our lives! Each time he finishes a Harry Potter book, he is allowed to watch the movie. His parents are teaching him the timeless truth that the book is almost always better than the movie! Today, he’ll spend his birthday in Harry Potter World, and he has no idea that this is part of the surprise.
His mother and I were texting last night, and she said he thought he was going to a state park to hike and explore, and was so excited about that, and it seemed almost at first as if he was a little disappointed, since he is an outdoor-loving adventure kind of kid. Then, once they got into the park, he said it was the best birthday ever, despite the throngs of people. She reminded me that they are not used to crowds at all beyond their family and the grocery store, so this is a cultural awakening for them. “We are not in any way, shape, or form ‘crowd people,’ ” she texted.
“Tomorrow is going to be different. He won’t be able to contain himself with all the happiness of Harry Potter World,” she added.
We can’t wait to hear all about his birthday with his family in Harry Potter World.
Warning: Photos of dead bobcat in photos at end of post. Do not read further if this makes you uncomfortable. It saddens me, but country living is full of both delights and horrors, and I take the bad with the good.
At 7:52 a.m. yesterday when I pulled into the parking lot at work, I reflected on my morning. Already, I’d seen a dead bobcat, two rabbits (one alive that ran in front of my car, and one dead that didn’t make it when it ran out in front of someone else’s), a squirrel, a large buck and small spotted deer. I’d heard the calls of the Downy Woodpecker, Eastern Phoebe, Blue Jay, Carolina Chickadee, Ruby and Golden-Crowned Kinglets, Carolina Wren, Eastern Bluebird, American Robin, Pine Siskin, Chipping Sparrow, Eastern Towhee, Northern Cardinal, and Orange-Crowned Warbler. I’d walked our three schnoodles and discovered a new scratched-up area in the ground cover along the woods of the driveway, showered, dressed, and had my mushroom coffee and protein shake.
Ollie checks out a new ground scratching
I’d been in the shower when I heard the phone’s text ding. I saw it was my husband, so as soon as I was reasonably dry, I read the text: Please call me before you leave for work.
He told me he thought he’d seen a dead wildcat on the side of the road where the neighbors with the black Suburban live. “Take a look when you drive by, and let me know what you think it is. It might be a bobcat.”
He knew I wouldn’t be able to wait on fixing my hair, clothes, and makeup. So off I went in my robe to see this creature whose fate had been determined somewhere between 10:30 Thursday night and 6:00 Friday morning.
I stopped the car in the road and turned on the flashers, got out with the flashlight, and made pictures. Sure enough, it was a wildcat. Its gut organs had been eaten, but the rest of it was still in fairly good condition for something that was hit by a car going the speed limit on Beeks Road. I didn’t think a car had done this, or at least not the blood and gut part.
I made some pictures to help me in my research and theories about what happened. Imagine: a half-clad, robed wildlife crime investigator out on a rural road before daybreak, wet hair, no makeup, snapping photos of a dead animal carcass. That was me.
I mourned the life of this cat for a moment, despite the fear its kind evokes in me each time I take my dogs for a walk. Moments like these are powerful reminders of why I believe strongly in keeping my dogs on a leash at all times. People think it strange that I live on a family farm in the country on the backside of nowhere and leash my dogs. This is why: bobcats, foxes, coyotes, owls, red-shouldered hawks as large as the Great Horned Owls, rogue dogs, wild boar, cars, venomous snakes, and hunters. Not to mention those who believe that every dog they see off a leash needs rescuing, posting on social media for three days, and then rehoming (a/k/a dognappers who believe they are fully justified). Ours are chipped, but walking unleashed in our neck of the wilderness simply isn’t worth the risk.
I raced back home to pull my Audubon book out and make a 100 percent positive identification on the bobcat. Check.
Then I began the investigation. “Hey, Google. What are a bobcat’s natural enemies?”
Google rarely lets me down. “The most common enemy of bobcats is man, but they also have other predators, including owls, eagles, coyotes, and foxes, mountain lions, and wolves.”
I looked closely at the photos and observed that this bobcat appeared to be in good shape except for the gaping gut hole that had been devoured by something. I also noted an odor that suggested the bobcat had been dead for longer than a couple of hours, even though it wasn’t there the night before. It seemed odd it was in the road smelling of decay already, and not fresh-since-last-night meat. It was also on the edge of the road where it would have likely been hit a number of times by texting drivers who failed to see it in time and move over a little.
A pack of coyotes would have picked this bobcat clean and torn its limbs apart, so I ruled them out. I have never seen a wolf here, and it’s been years since anyone has seen a wild boar on this property. A fox lingered for a passing thought, but one predator emerged as the prime suspect. We have three active culprits, and they’re nocturnal. The Great Horned Owl.
Most people would shake their heads and dismiss this possibility. No way an owl would kill a bobcat.
Here’s a way: a bobcat is struck by a car and crippled but not killed. It languishes for several days in the brush, and finally succumbs to its pain and lack of food or water, probably realizing that whatever animal stumbles across it will consider it a gourmet meal.
I believe it was the Great Horned Owl who watched to see that the bobcat was alive for a time, and then when it knew this creature was too weak to fight back, but probably still alive, it swooped in for the feast. I believe it dragged it to the road for a better angle and strategically placed the stomach organs on the line in the road where the elevation dips back down so it could get to all the good meat in much the same way we invert the yogurt lid to lick the top, and I believe it ate the stomach organs and the eyes.
I believe all of this because I have seen over the years how the Great Horned Owls prefer organs. They eat the heads of rabbits, taking out the brains and leaving the rest. This carcass destruction made sense to me.
I can’t imagine the sheer shame of the bobcat spirit in bobcat heaven, reading the Georgia Rural Wildlife newpaper obituaries about his tragic end:
Robert W. Cat died Friday, November 10, 2023, killed by a Great Horned Owl with a five-foot wingspan. His friends all believed that he was the fiercest of his kind there in rural Georgia but report they had noticed a slip in his swagger in the days preceding his death. His wife reported she had heard rumors he was out running around on her with his sly catlike ways, and moved on just hours following her husband’s death, noting simply, “I hope he was in life number nine. He was a real animal.”
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. New goals have asterisks for the month of November, when I will report on them in a few weeks. For the month of October, here’s my goal reflection:
Category
Goals
My Progress
Literature
Read for Sarah Donovan’s Book Group
Send out Postcards
Blog Daily
I participated in the October book discussion with Sarah’s reading group for Reader, Come Home: The Reading Brain in a Digital World. I’ll participate in the book discussion for Assessment 3.0 this month. Time for reading has been scarce lately, but Audible is a good way to try to keep up the pace when all I can do is multi-task.
I sent no postcards this month.
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, and the blog is a way of continuing the habit.
I had a Zoom meeting with Ruth Ayers of Choice Literacy about writing for her website. I look forward to spending some time writing about local literacy events.
Creativity
*Decorate for fall
*Create Shutterfly Route 66
I created a surprise ducking of our office. I used tiny ducks left over from my brother in law’s birthday ducking and put them to use in the office, even adding Halloween ducks to the lineup.
I have been trying to get to Shutterfly since July, so if I haven’t accomplished this goal by the end of October, I may give up on this one. Update: I’m giving up on this goal.
Spirituality
Tune in to church
Pray!
Keep OLW priority
We have been tuning in to church. With Dad preaching every Sunday in October and a few Sundays ahead of that, it makes the church home hunt take a back seat until my childhood church gets a new preacher, since I have the opportunity to hear Dad.
My car is still my prayer chamber for daily prayer, and there’s so much to give thanks for. I continue my conversations with the good Lord each morning and afternoon.
I’m still keeping my OLW my priority: pray!
Reflection
Spend time tracking goals each month
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. I’ve hit major stress and gained weight, despite joining WW. I need to set a firm date and get the mental mindset that it takes to stay on track. I have work to do. Update: every day, the diet is starting “tomorrow.” I seriously need a good mindset to start back. I’m keeping this goal. I need to get on track. Tomorrow.
Gratitude
Devote blog days to counting blessings
I begin the days this way and end them giving thanks as well.
Experience
Embrace Slow Travel
Focus on the Outdoors
I’ve taken a trip in October to F D R State Park for a Little Guy Southern States Meet Up. We met people who have the same kind of camper we have, and we even signed up for next year’s meet up in Tennessee at Roan Mountain State Park. My brother and his fiancee came for a visit during Fall Break, and it was wonderful having some time together with them.
I’m still focusing on the outdoors with birdwatching adventures and camping. We also built our own fire pit foundation for the fire pit my son gave us for Christmas last year.
Common Threads 