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.
This December, I’m slowly making my way through Calm Christmas and a Happy New Year by Beth Kempton (2019), and in Part 3 starting in Chapter 7, she presents ways to preserve the quiet times by savoring the “hush.” She encourages time to reflect on Christmas and suggests ways to avoid stress during the week between Christmas and New Year’s Day.
I’m particularly excited for the moments of hush this year. My youngest daughter is scheduled to be induced two days after Christmas. She’s pregnant with her first child, a son, who will be named Silas. This gift of a new family member is the most precious gift of all, and while the moments of hush will be few and far between with the constant needs of an infant, the moments of watching a baby sleep will bring deep peace and joy. I plan to be there to celebrate the birth and get to know this new little one.
Indeed, a baby changes everything – especially at Christmas!
The relaxed pace of the week after Christmas affords down time for many, where the world takes a deep pause from work to play and spend time with family. Many businesses in our area are closed from Christmas until New Year’s Day. It’s the perfect time, Kempton writes, to take stock of your house, take mini-breaks, reflect on the past year and plan for the new, to write, and to engage in other creative projects. She encourages us to take a digital detox day by turning off all electronics and not checking email. In fact, she suggests that a day in nature is a great way to hit the reset button for deep thinking that is free of distraction. The chapter is loaded with specific ideas such as hibernating with hot chocolate, flipping mattresses, taking blankets outside to watch the moon and stars, taking mini-trips to local places such as museums or movies, and flying kites on the beach.
The week between Christmas is the best time to reflect on the past year, and to begin thinking about the One Little Word to guide the next year. I’ve loved the power of the word for the past several years, and while I’ve kept the word PRAY for the past two because I can find no better word, I will take a second word for next year because one is calling to me. I’ll keep PRAY as my guiding word, but there will be another that will travel with me through the year as well. I’ll think of them as the focal and diopter lenses on a camera. One big word, and then a refining word. More on this later.
Here are some questions Kempton urges us to consider for reflection between the week of Christmas and New Year’s Day:
When did you experience joy?
What was especially tiring?
What was magical?
What was calm?
Whose presence was challenging? a delight?
Which of your efforts were appreciated, and which felt like a waste of time or energy or money?
What was your single most favorite memory this Christmas?
Which preparations did you enjoy the most?
What would you like to do differently next Christmas?
I already know that putting up the smaller tree was a good move for us, given that I got sick before Christmas and battled an upper respiratory infection that left me fatigued. We were late putting up the tree and figured that since we would have minimal activity in our own home to celebrate, we didn’t want a lot of decorations. Still, we love the lights of a tree for ushering in Christmas Spirit first thing in the morning and in the evenings while we are home, so we pulled down the 7′ pre-lit pencil tree requiring no assembly rather than the 12′ pre-lit tree that goes up in three tiers and requires ladders and three full boxes of ornaments. And we are enjoying it just as much. It may be the new standard for us. Already, I’m not dreading having to “take down Christmas.” It’s simpler this year, and it feels more manageable, allowing me to look forward to less work in the aftermath of the holidays.
And there will be fresh. pumpkin bread, a treat I reserve for Thanksgiving and Christmas and that has been the trademark bread in my home since the mid-1980s when I got the recipe from a cookbook at a bridal shower. Everyone loves this recipe, and I’ll link the recipe here.
Try a loaf for your family. Have a cup of coffee by the tree in the early morning with dogs piled in your lap next to the fireplace, and feel the comfort and warmth of fresh bread before the rest of the household rises. It’s a magical treat.
This December, I’m slowly making my way through Calm Christmas and a Happy New Year by Beth Kempton (2019), and in Chapter 1, Kempton presents The Five Stories of Christmas that focus on faith, magic, connection, abundance, and heritage. Today’s focal thoughts center on heritage.
Kempton invites readers to reflect on these aspects of heritage:
What is your view of traditions related to midwinter, such as decorating your home with evergreens and celebrating the winter solstice? What sort of weather do you associate with Christmas, and what impact does it have on how you expect to feel and what you expect to do this time of year? What particular traditions have been handed down through your family and become part of your personal Christmas story, and how do you feel about them? Do you plan to maintain them?
We’ve never specifically celebrated Winter Solstice, but we have traditionally celebrated winter with a Christmas tree in our home, whether real or artificial, along with a wreath on the door as well. Having grown up on an island, I always wanted snow but never had a true “White Christmas” until 1989, when the snow set in the evening before Christmas Eve and amounted to about 6 inches in the coastal area of South Carolina where we lived at the time. Weather never had an impact on our holiday season, since most of the time it was warm and sunny. In fact, there were Christmases that we could have sunbathed on the beach.
Traditions that have been handed down include gift giving and celebrating Christmas morning around the tree with a breakfast casserole in the oven, warm cinnamon rolls, and coffee and juice. There were many years that my mother hosted a formal Christmas dinner at high noon with extended family around the table, and while I loved it, a formal meal on Christmas Day is not a tradition that I would be successful in continuing, as families are growing and beginning their own traditions. At this point, my husband and I are happy to travel or to be home – whichever works out best for those family members with young children. Also, we often spread the celebration times around so that we are not locked into the one day of Christmas being our dedicated day to gather.
In writing our Christmas narratives, Kempton reminds us that “much of the stress of Christmas comes from either not giving ourselves permission to evolve our inherited narrative, or from the pressure to evolve it into something that is out of alignment with what, deep down, we believe about Christmas….What we need is a way to marry what matters to us with what matters to those we love, and then let go of the rest.”
I couldn’t agree more. Having traditions and memories creates rootedness and belonging, but it’s a double-edged sword in creating a rigidness that prevents us from embracing new ways of doing things and being flexible in our thinking. Things don’t always have to be done the way they’ve always been done. It’s my turn to celebrate with my children – and their children – in the way that they choose to honor, celebrate, and keep Christmas!
On a scale of 1 to 10, I’d rate heritage as it relates to family traditions as a 4 or 5 in importance. These ratings will become part of a Christmas constellation in tomorrow’s post.
This December, I’m slowly making my way through Calm Christmas and a Happy New Year by Beth Kempton (2019). Even though we don’t generally have what most might consider a “Big Christmas,” I’m still feeling the pull to simplify ~ to do less, to buy less, to reflect more. In Chapter 1, Kempton presents The Five Stories of Christmas that focus on faith, magic, connection, abundance, and heritage. Today, I’m thinking about faith, and she asks the following question for reflection as it relates to Christmas:
Which parts of your faith connect to Christmas the most, and how do you feel when you think about them?
The Bible tells Luke’s account of the birth of Jesus, and of course with every other child born in the 1960s – even if we went to church every Sunday, -we still remember it best from the Peanuts episode that aired around 8:00 p.m. once during the month of December and may have been followed by Frosty the Snowman or Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer at 8:30. We watched an exasperated Charlie Brown ask what Christmas was all about on our channel-knob television with the fine-tuning dial and rabbit ears in the days before remote controls. For me, the part of my faith that connects to Christmas is the story of the Nativity.
Here is a story from a previous blog post about the Nativity Set I mention below in my poem below~ it’s a special family heirloom, and I look forward to unboxing it each Christmas season. This is the way my faith connects to Christmas as I ponder it deeply, because it connects past, present, and future in one defining moment in history and puts it all right in the manger. My mother may not still be here in the present, but because of the past, I can count on seeing her again in the future. That’s Christmas!
Nativity Nonet
the nativity is the reason
we celebrate Christmas ~ before
she died, my mother gave me
a Nativity set
to span the ages
generations ~
past, present,
future:
faith
On a scale of 1-10, I’d rate faith a 10 on its level of importance to me at Christmas.
On Saturday, we picked up the dogs from the kennel. They’d been there for over a week, and we don’t think they sleep very well there with all the barking and the stress of the other dogs who are strangers to them. We believe this because every time we pick them up, they sleep the rest of the day and straight through the night once we bring them back to the comfort of their home.
It’s a lot like how we feel when we come home from a trip. We can let down and truly relax. All our stuff is back where it goes, and we are no longer living out of a carry-on suitcase.
Our dogs are spoiled, and used to a quiet space where they lounge in our bed all day and eat kibble soaked in bone broth. They pile up in our laps or on the back of our chairs, stretching their front legs around one side of our neck and their back legs around the other, functioning essentially as a living fur scarf and warming us from the inside out.
One of them, Ollie, has no upbringing whatsoever – – he will walk right across the end table to get from one of us to the other as we sit in our family room chairs. He is often seeking his place, because he arrived in our family as a “guest dog” after my grandson visited and wanted to know which of our two dogs was going to sleep with him in his bed. Fitz is invisibly tethered to me, and Boo Radley does not stray far from my husband. Ollie, a young stray schnoodle offered to us by the rescue when two other families walked away, joined our family after being found as a young stray on the streets of Gainesville, Georgia. He is the perfect “guest dog,” simply wandering between us, happiest when someone is throwing his ball to him.
The quiet comfort and peace of home is the best part of the Johnson Funny Farm, but it would not be this blissful without the dogs here with us. They add such character, such love, such personality, such humor – and such predictability – to our lives. They know their routine.
When I rise, earlier most days than my husband, they wait in bed for me to use the restroom and wash my hands. Once I come out, they are on their way down the bed steps, heading to the door for their turn.
Out we go for the first quick outing, into the dark of the morning no matter what time of year it is, and they handle their business quickly before coming back inside – back to bed on work days, to wait for me to finish my shower. Once I head to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee and begin writing, though, two will saunter in and reposition themselves – Boo and Ollie – while Fitz finds his toy turtle and burrows under the bed covers until time for the second outing of the morning.
I think what I love best is the weekends, where they know we are going nowhere and that the day will be spent at home with them, belonging to each other in the way that dogs and their people do when they’ve bonded.
There is no other peace felt as deeply, at least for me, as the complete and total togetherness of being home with our boys.
Special thanks to Two Writing Teachers at Slice of Life
Opportunities for writing are waiting for us if we only look for them!
I stopped by the Boston Writing Project’s Drop-in Writing Station at the NCTE Convention, and I was immediately captivated by a large tree with colorful poetry hearts filled with verse proclaiming the convention theme: Heart, Hope, and Humanity. As with most conferences, I was between sessions, hoping to get a seat in the next place while still wanting to sit and write – so I did the next best thing. I’d composed a pile poem in an earlier session led by Sarah Donovan and Stefani Boutelier, so I wrote the poem on the heart and placed it there on the tree. It is a pile of blessings, and this one is read from bottom to top. Here is my pile poem from a Saturday morning NCTE session:
On Thanksgiving Day, I saw another tree just waiting to be filled with words of gratitude. This one was at the Plimoth-Patuxet Museum as we shared a Thanksgiving meal with those visiting the museum to take part in their traditional meal narrated by the chief historian, who shares the history of the holiday. Here is my leaf and the tree.
The leaves filled out throughout the day. I wish I had taken a picture when we stopped by later to read all the leaves that had been added.
I love these kinds of invitations to share responses and writing. It reminds me that everyone is eager to write and to share if the opportunities are presented in fun and engaging ways.
On the final full day of the NCTE Convention in Boston, I gave myself permission to attend a half day and take a half day to explore Boston with my husband on his first visit to this iconic city. In 2005, I’d summered just 20 minutes from Boston in Milton, Massachusetts, where I’d stayed on the campus of Curry College doing research as part of a graduate degree program. I’ve visited a few times since, most recently in 2022.
So
much
has
changed!
Since the weather was cold and rainy and we were woefully wardrobe-unprepared, we decided to catch the Old Town Trolley tour and sit back and relax, listening to the history as we rode in the heated bus. I purchased tickets online and added them to my Apple Wallet, jumping on at Stop 15: The Boston Convention Center.
The sign doesn’t fully tell the story. You have to add the wind.
Thank goodness for a heated tour bus.
Faneuil Hall, one of my favorite places in Boston – I purposely didn’t edit the photograph, because I love the spaciousness of Boston and all the old bricks.
My husband had walked the Freedom Trail the day before, but the Old Town Trolley gave us a narrated history of many more landmarks.
We went in for a late lunch without a wait. We ate enough that we were too full for supper, and we shared our meal.
The Union Oyster House is directly across from the Holocaust Memorial.
Someone at our table enjoyed a Samuel Adams lager, sheerly for the nostalgia.
New England Clam Chowdah
When in Boston, one should sample the Boston Baked Beans.
We shared an Oyster Roll.
The Union Oyster House has its window decorations up, and I snapped a quick photo of this miniature replica of the UOH decorated for Christmas, with the Holocaust Memorial in the reflection of the window. This may be my favorite photograph I took on the tour.
Changing leaves
I believe my favorite part of the tour was the changing leaves. There’s nothing like New England in the fall, with all its vibrant colors and crisp air.
Boston’s Seaport District at night
When you leave town without enough warm clothes, you find a new sweatshirt to help you remember that time you ate in the nation’s oldest continuously operating restaurant……
We asked Zoomies, where we board our dogs, to please share a report card and a couple of photos of the boys with us while we were gone, since we knew we would be missing our four-legged sons terribly. While boarding, they were to have groomings as well.
We had no idea they would be taking Christmas pictures while we were gone, so imagine our delight when we got these precious pictures of our three rescue schnoodles the day before Thanksgiving! We wanted to share them with you, too, so that you could see their expressions. (We’ll translate for you what each is thinking):
This is how it’s going for our boys at the kennel:
Fitz: “ I can’t wait for Santa! I’m a good boy, and he will have a treat for me. Let me smile big for my Christmas picture and show off these old teeth I keep losing before they’re all gone.”
Fitz, named for F. Scott Fitzgerald
Ollie: “Let me pose like the spoiled, dignified dog that I am, the kind that might have a jar of Grey Poupon handy in case anyone ever asks. I’ll behave just right for this festive Christmas photo, since I have just been groomed to perfection. Maybe someone will see the look in my eyes and want to throw my ball for me to chase. I’ll just go ahead and put my front legs in the ready position to run after it.”’
Ollie, named for the late, great poet Mary Oliver
Boo Radley: “This is b#ll$h!t!”
Boo Radley, named for a character in To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee
Cheers for the holiday spirit, and for all the Christmas pictures that will be made over the coming weeks, and a full license to embrace the truth of whatever the camera captures. We are still laughing at their personalities. Our Christmas Dogs. Oh, the joy they bring.
After traveling the final leg of our loop around New England on Wednesday afternoon from West Chesterfield, New Hampshire to Plymouth, Massachusetts, we visited the Plimoth-Patuxet Museum sites on Wednesday and Thursday. Our first stop was to Plymouth Rock, and our second was to the Mayflower II. At these exhibits, we learned a little more about the history of the voyage the Pilgrims made – the risks they took and the price they paid.
Realistic role-playing Pilgrim
On Thursday, we visited the Pilgrim colony and shared in the Thanksgiving Dinner right in the area where the first Thanksgiving dinner was held. We were pleased that a historian was sharing the history with us so that we could hear accurate accounts from primary sources. We were also impressed that the Pilgrim village was created with historical accuracy, with role-playing realistic Pilgrims who go about their village and house chores while inviting questions and observations from visitors. We even saw a real goose being cooked on a spit and a mother Pilgrim teaching her son some culinary skills.
A mother teaches her son culinary skills ~ note the goose fat dripping from the spit.
The Pilgrims spoke with the accents and language of their time, and answered any questions from those witnessing their chores and conversations.
This pilgrim is describing how they kept the fire burning.
I entered one of the homes to find a young man seated by the fire wearing a tan vest and keeping warm. It was miserably cold and raining on this Thanksgiving holiday as we walked outdoors bundled up with umbrellas, thankful we both had waterproof shoes. I told him I thought he had the best seat in the house. He asked if I had any questions.
“Just one,” I replied. “Did anyone ever feel safe?”
He rubbed his chin for a moment, considering this before responding, “What a question!”
After a pause, he replied that they did feel safe, because their strong faith in the Lord depended on their ultimate faith in him, and whatever consequence brought about was by His provisioning.
Satisfied, I thought about the 2-month voyage that they had taken across the Atlantic Ocean – risking it all in the name of religious freedom – and concluded that he was probably right. He seemed to be answering from the perspective of safety of belief, whereas my question was more from a physical context in terms of Native tribes and wild animals, having seen the guns and cannons in the meeting house that afforded lookout-level views outside the gated village.
“Did anyone ever feel safe?” is the question I asked of this colonist.
At 2:30, we found our table with our place cards and met the others who would be seated at our table. There were three other couples and two children eating with us. After some introductions, we began sipping our cider and passing the plate of cheese, crackers, and grapes as appetizers. Our meal menu was inspired by the 1863 Thanksgiving meal served to students at Harvard University. In the museum, there is a timeline and display that sequences the progression of the Thanksgiving meal from the 17th century to today, along with the types of dishes and utensils that would have been used at each meal.
Visitors have two options for the Thanksgiving meals served at Plymouth-Patuxet Museum. The choices include a buffet meal served at The Craft House or a plated meal with formal dining served in the Visitor Center. The formal dinner includes The Story of Thanksgiving, told by the chief historian as a narrative along with a member of the Wampanoag tribe and a Pilgrim descendant. This is the meal we chose, simply because with so much controversy often surrounding this holiday, we wanted to seek understanding of the facts from a historian’s explanation of what really happened. The reading of the land honorarium was a meaningful part of the meal, along with the customary toast given.
My plated meal before I added cranberry sauce to go with the dressing hiding under the turkey
The customary toast, given by the chief historian at Plimoth-Patuxet Museums
After a traditional toast before dessert, the museum had one more offering in store for Thanksgiving guests. Even though we had planned to get on the road back to Boston at the conclusion of our meal, we took advantage of the opportunity to see Wicked at the Linn Theater at 4:30 before making the drive to Boston to turn in our rental car and check into our room for the night.
The later arrival into Boston was more than worth making the time to see the movie! Already, we are talking about the next time we can go back and enjoy more of New England.
But nothing……nothing……not one thing……compares to arriving back home. A great vacation, for us, is one that we don’t want to end – while at the same time looking forward to being back in our own space, back in our own bed. It’s one that cultivates a deep appreciation for other places and people while at the same time making us more grateful for our own little corner of the world and our strong sense of belonging we feel in it.
So from my writing chair this morning, by my own fire with its modern gas logs that simply require me to push a button to feel the warmth and see the light of its flames, I wish you all the adventures of travel and the comforts of home.
Breakfast table at The Chesterfield Inn in New Hampshire
It’s my brother’s birthday today, so I’m wishing him a happy one! He’s a wonderful brother, and I’m so glad he’s mine! Happy birthday, Ken Haynes!
***************************
We’ve said it so many times on this trip: we’d like to come back and spend more time in certain spots. The Chesterfield Inn in West Chesterfield, New Hampshire is one of those places ~ the historic inn feel, complete with a relaxing 16-year-old cat named Yoda who runs the place. He reminds us of how we feel like we’re moving about now on this trip.
Apples at Bolton Orchards
We stopped at Bolton Orchards to get some apples as a snack, and as we crunched on the crisp sweetness, we also said that as much as we say we want to come back, we have to make the time to do it. Travel doesn’t just up and happen on its own, because most of the time I’m feeling more and more like Yoda these days ~ just give me a chair and let me nap while I hope someone will come along and scratch between my ears.
So with firm resolve, we decided a couple of things:
We’ll plan for next year’s trip once we get home; and
We will make it less than a week (four days with a day’s rest on the returning end seems the sweet spot) ~ we are exhausted.
We also have figured out that we like to fly and ride. We’re less apt to cruise at this point, like we used to do. Cruising is nice, but it’s not what Chaucer described as the travel we like best. We like to see the landscape from the wagon and share the stories on the way to the Tabard Inn. Our next trip will involve a plane and a car, because the changing flavor from place to place (and mostly, in between) is not to be missed.
Here are a few photos from a more touristy spot, but one rich with history.
We’re flying home today, from Boston to Atlanta. I’ll share our visit to Plimoth-Patuxet for the Thanksgiving Dinner in a post over the weekend.
Us with The Mayflower II in the background
Plymouth Rock
Mayflower II
The John F. Kennedy Memorial on Cape Cod
Sangria at The Black Cat Tavern on Cape Cod. One of us needed it.
Common Threads 