Category: Spirituality/Inspiration

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Black Rock Mountain Stop

On the way home from visiting my brother in Bethlehem, North Carolina last weekend, we made two quick stops at campgrounds in North Georgia: Tallulah Gorge and Black Rock Mountain. These are two of my favorites for scenery alone – – particularly Black Rock Mountain, which is Georgia’s highest elevation state park and is on the eastern continental divide. It’s quite a car-climb to get there, and we wanted to scope out the campsites to see which might be our favorite one to try to reserve. You can read more about Black Rock Mountain State Park here. Tallulah Gorge is also a gorgeous campground, and we love its unique history with Karl Wallenda having walked across. Both are located near the town of Clayton, Georgia, which has many wonderful eateries and even a meadery downtown. We like the farm-to-table chefs who change the menus based on what’s fresh and in season.

We’re ready for the summer, for some travel and relaxed pacing of days to be able to read in the hammock and sit around the campfire under the stars. These are the times we look most forward to – – – slow travel, relaxed days, dog walks and leisurely morning coffee seeping down to firefly dusk. There are cottages (including dog-friendly cottages) here, too! If you’re ever in Black Rock Mountain State Park in Georgia and looking for a place to make memories, Cottage 5 looks like the one I’d recommend…..

Black Rock Acrostic

Brunch in the late morning

Lingering over coffee

Afterglow horizon sunsets

Camping on Black Mountain

Keeping it simple

Reading, talking, holding presence

On Black Mountain

Camping in the clouds

Knowing each moment

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When We Can Read, We Can Do Things

I’ve been watercolor painting step-by-step from paint-on-page instructional books on weekends, writing haiku, and relaxing in the paint peace. A Slice of Life blogger shared her Emily Lex watercolor workbook in March, and it reminded me of the one I’d seen in a shop in Woodstock, Vermont but didn’t buy because of the lack of luggage space. And then I was drawn back to wanting to (try to) paint.

It’s not like I’m talented or anything. Not naturally, anyway. But I can read and follow directions. It’s what I told a friend who once said she was glad her mother never taught her to cook so she would never be expected to. “If you can read, you can cook,” I assured her. And so it is with painting. If I can read, I can (try to) paint.

Fellow blogger Glenda Funk discovered she loved watercolor through a recent painting class I also signed up for, but my work life prevented my attending the actual classes, and in the midst of testing season I didn’t find the time in the evenings to go back and watch the recordings. Her paintings are vibrant and beautiful – the kind you can frame and put on your wall. When I’m retired, I will take a sure ’nuff painting class either online like Glenda or in person like fellow blogger Margaret Simon, who is also finding joy in the process. So does Anita Ferreri. Fellow blogger Debbie Lynn has also shared her gorgeous sketches and art forms, and more and more I’m inspired by all that our writing community does to express creativity through various forms of art. I wish we had an Art Market blogging day so we could share blog posts on how we blend writing and other art. I’d love to see more.

One flower new to me is a protea, and while I’ve never seen a protea in person, they remind me of a tall, thin water lily like on the logo above. Apparently the painting is relaxing me more than I realize. I came home from work yesterday all stirred up over an issue, and after listening to me whine for a while, my husband said, “You just need to sit down and paint.”

And I was relieved that he didn’t say, “You just need to cook.” He is alive and well this morning because of it.

Protea Haiku

pink, red, yellow, white

nectar-rich cone-shaped flower

South African bloom!

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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

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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

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VerseLove Day 25: Slam Poems

I am working on a slam poem to go with today’s prompt at ethicalela.com for the 25th day of VerseLove, but meanwhile this sonnet is burning a hole in my paper, so I share this one today and may convert it to a slam poem later. For now, peace.

Older woman reading a handwritten letter at a kitchen table with plants and a cup of tea
A woman happily reads a letter while sitting at a wooden kitchen table with plants and a cup of tea nearby.

Nature Sonnet

a fragrant flower in the windowsill

a bookmark made of braided meadow grass

the signs of earth indoors my heart doth fill

I long to take a watercolor class

to plein-air paint the sunsets orange-red

that fireball sinking ‘neath horizons west

where scenes of Mother Earth are richly fed

her images in nature-tones finessed

I long to write earthsongs in lilting verse

to feel cool breezes blowing through each line

as raindrops on fresh soil my soul immerse

as fragrant as bright morning glory vine

at every turn the earth extends her hand

inspiring me to love her ev’ry land

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VerseLove Day 23: Lose, Loss, Lost

Our host today for the 23rd day of VerseLove at http://www.ethicalela.com is Scott McCloskey of Michigan, who inspires us to write poems of loss. You can read his full prompt here.

Enough

here you are, slumped

next to me

in our favorite

chair and a half

your warmth on my hip

resting peacefully

Gabapentin doing its work

for your pain

Thank God your

mouth is on the armrest

with one paw

protecting it

breathing the other way

with breath so bad

it might kill a buzzard

but for your human it’s

the sign of life

of your holding on

and already I know

chances are high that

your teeth and mouth ulcers

and bladder stones

may not be all that is lost

next week

I feel tears welling just

thinking about it

you, our rescue schnauzer

with no known age or past

all things uncertain except

one thing:

we are tenderly and fiercely

bonded, imprinted, paired

as forever buddies

you are here,

you are warm and safe,

and you are loved

in this moment

now

which is

enough

for this hour

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VerseLove Day 18: Golden Hinge

Angie of Mauritius is our host today for the 18th day of VerseLove at http://www.ethicalela.com. You can read her full prompt here, inspiring us to write Golden Hinge poems, where the first line of the poem also reads vertically as the first words in each line, As a child, I got hooked on poetry in the pages of Childcraft by one poem that did it for me – Overheard on a Salt Marsh by Harold Monro, and so I took a line from Joy Sullivan’s Remember What It Was Like to Be a Kid? from her book Instructions for Traveling West to pay tribute to Harold Monro today.

Tribute to Harold Monro

have you found the jewel of language

you discovered in childcraft volume 1 when you

found the one with a nymph and a goblin in

the salt marsh mesmerized by an emerald necklace

jewel stolen from the moon

of your dreams, carried in your soul, this captivating

language of poetry still shimmering green?

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VerseLove Day 16: Beginning Again

Stacey Joy of California is our host today for VerseLove at http://www.ethicalela.com, inspiring us to write poems of starting over or redefining ourselves in some new way. You can read her full prompt here.

Stacey has me thinking about freedom and restraints – and the presence or absence of them in their many complex forms. She’s the second person to recommend The Book of Alchemy by Suleika Jaouad since yesterday, explaining that one of the writing exercises in the book prompted her etheree form today – a form with ten lines with that many numbered syllables on each line (1-10). I have the book coming my way on an interlibrary loan and hope to be holding it without a wait very soon. I used her etheree as a pattern today, letting her footsteps guide the way as I thought of retirement as a freedom to travel and see more National Parks from coast to coast. I’m in the process of trading my InTech Aucta Willow Rover for a small Class C Tiffin Wayfarer – not quite like Steinbeck’s “Rocinante” truck camper van of 1960 like I camped in with my grandparents in the early 1970s, but one I can drive without a tow vehicle so I can take to the road even if my husband stays back for work and needs his truck. And I’m getting the twin-to-king conversion bed so I can take my husband (king) or a friend (twin) along for the ride, complete with a dog or three. And sip coffee, read, write…..and learn to breathe.

Rocinante

when
freedom
(retirement)
comes in August
I hope to behold
Steinbeck’s Rocinante
packed and ready to explore
Open Roads of America
enjoying the journey as much as
the destination: learning how to breathe

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VerseLove Day 15: Cascade

Our host today for VerseLove at http://www.ethicalela.com is Erica Johnson, who offers inspiration here in a new-to-me form of poetry called a cascade. These remind me of Pantoum poems. Erika explains: It’s a form created by Udit Bhatia and asks that the poet take each line from the first stanza of a poem and makes each one the final line in the stanzas that follow. This results in the poem resembling a tumbling waterfall, which was when I knew I needed to go look through my photos of waterfalls for inspiration!

Erika shares the process with us: Read over the cascade form and write out the pattern you wish to follow: tercet or quatrain.  I found that having the structure written as a reminder helped guide my writing.

My mind went straight to Gibbs Gardens, where I’d rather spend the day in flowers than at work. Here, you can check out the bloom report and see where I’d take you if you were spending the day with me. We’d have lunch at The Burger Bus and order daffodils to plant next season.

Let’s Play

I did not want to get up today
I’d like to sip coffee with friends in a cafe
talk books, catch up, paint daffodils, play

I’d drive to Ball Ground
stroll Gibbs Gardens’ spring blooms
I did not want to get up today

the tulips have opened, Monet’s pond awaits
I’d load up the girls for a quick getaway
I’d like to sip coffee with friends in a cafe

we’d laugh and share stories
take off work for the day
get a slow start, talk books, paint daffodils, play

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VerseLove Day 12: The Poetry of Everyday

Rita DiCarne of Pennsylvania is our host today for the 12th day of VerseLove at http://www.ethicalela.com. She inspires us to write list poems, prose-style or with line, about all the things we love. It makes me think of Tom T. Hall’s song, “I Love.” You can read Rita’s full prompt here.

You can hear Tom T. Hall’s “I Love” here.

The Nest

I like going places~

camping, girls’ trips, weekend getaways

but I love coming home

I love bone-tired sleep, the kind where

you don’t move all night and have sheet imprints

on your face from the weight of

not carrying anything with you to bed

putting it all down at the foot

climbing in, clocking out, cloud-drifting off

I love waking up to dog noses

in my face saying Let’s Go Outside!

I love Skechers Slip-Ins for when the grass

is too tall and wet with dew for the regular slippers

I love opening the front door for the sun

to barge in, full of life and light and laughter

I love checking the bird nests, finding

a clutch of four brown-headed nuthatches

snuggled under mama bird on a

bright, cool Sunday morning

like a prayerful blessing of their own

a place where they will learn

to fledge, fly, and face a lifetime

of setting out and coming home

to their feathered nests

the places they’ll grow to love best