Category: travel

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March 20: 3:08-3:39 A Trip to Gibbs Gardens

I take an afternoon break at work usually around 3:30 for about 10 minutes to stretch my legs and walk outdoors around the building in the sunshine when it’s warm. My body and soul need the Vitamin D. I need the release of noise and stress to take to the silence. I’m reminded of Margaret Simon’s recent post on Notes from a Walk inspired by Denise Kreb’s post on her own morning walk and take some mental notes for a blog post later. I notice the flowers, the birdsong, the hidden Pirate Trail so perfect for a solitary walk to indulge for just a few minutes in the name of what little sanity and peace of mind exists right now.

This walk reminds me of our visit to Gibbs Gardens last year, where we took in the breathtaking views of daffodils and tulips. It makes me want to go back again. They’ve just opened for the season on March 1. I pull up the ticket information and the hours, starting to plan the trip in my mind. I check out the Bloom Update calendar and admire the photos of the same daffodils I’d seen last year that were recently photographed, smiling their friendly, welcoming springtime smiles already this year.

This weekend? Next weekend? What’s on tap for us? I text my husband: Let’s go back to Gibb’s Gardens! Which weekend works for you?

And then, across the parking lot in the row of pines, I see the familiar ghostly cloud of yellow spores signaling me from the tip top branches, sweeping through the needles and swooping down, taking my inner springtime joy with it as one giant corkscrewing wave spirals in a hurried flurry to the ground. My weekend dreams pummel in that same way inside my heart, and I can feel it.

I cover my nose and mouth and return to the less-spored indoors, turning the personal air purifier in my cubicle to the highest setting, abandoning all ambition to make the drive to Gibbs Gardens until after pollen season and penciling a note to myself to tape to my keys: remember to dig out the NeilMed sinus rinse bottle before bed.

Gibbs Gardens trip plans

come to a screeching-hard halt

in this pollen count

Today’s Pollen Count in Pike County, Georgia is 184 grains per cubic meter of air……..

  • Today: High
  • Tomorrow: Very High
  • Saturday: Very High
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March 9: 9:16-9:47 Clap if You Believe in Fairies!

Late-to-Rise Leprechaun: A Modified Limerick

a leprechaun sat ‘neath the shamrocks

with buckled hat, red beard, and striped socks

his faeries he queried

am I late? I’m quite w’erried

so ye be, chimed the three,

(one with book upon knee),

even fairyland can’t turn back time clocks

Top o’ the mornin’ to ya! I took a spur-o’-the-moment trip south to visit my family as my brother and sister in law and I try to help Dad tackle some tasks he can no longer do on his own. Chemotherapy has zapped all of his strength, and we (and others) continue to try to help where he will allow it – which is not nearly enough for any of us to feel satisfied, but that will take the luck o’ the Irish and a lot of prayer to change. He’s testy with us, seems skeptical, and wants to be left alone. He’s made it quite clear.

Before my brother and I visited him, I had a little extra time to check out the Ace Garden Center on St. Simons Island, Georgia, and I’d spied a little leprechaun in the robust fairy garden section that I’d planned to go back and get after visiting with Dad. I was there to look for spider plants, known for improving air quality by giving off oxygen in their transpiration process. But leave it to fairies to lure me down the aisle of wonder and intrigue. While I don’t have a dedicated fairy garden, my whole front porch is filled with fairies in their own plant container homes.

Imagine my delight when my sister in law, Jennifer, asked me to swing back by the house after visiting with Dad. She’d known just the medicine I’d needed – – a little fairy magic to cheer me up! She’d read my blog yesterday morning and beat me to the fairy section, choosing the perfect assortment of fairies – and the leprechaun – to sit on the edge of my shamrock plant as a gift – – making them so much more meaningful. Each time I look at the leprechaun, I smile. And what she didn’t know was that I would have picked the fairies dressed in green – – for an extra sprinkling of Irish fairy dust!

When I opened the gift, a black nose appeared out of nowhere – – JoJo, one of their black labs, sensed the magic and joined the fun, studying this leprechaun and his trio of fairy friends, as mesmerized as any dog has ever been. Her fixation on them – even trying at one point to take the leprechaun by the beard and run off with him – lightened the mood and made us all laugh.

Sources say that there are no female leprechauns, and that these little magical creatures are the unwanted children of the fairy family – – grouchy, closed off, and untrusting. With their stubborn, curmudgeonly, cranky attitudes, even leprechauns need someone to show them some love – trouble is, they have a hard time accepting it.

I have reasons for understanding the close relative of the leprechaun in folklore – the Clurichaun, drunk and surly beings who are known for clearing out entire wine cellars. And I must admit: I, myself, a mere human, along with my brother and sister in law, had broken into some wine over the weekend. But let’s be real – – the leprechauns drive them to it.

There comes a time in life when all children can do is clap if we believe in fairies, to envision Mary Martin as Peter Pan rallying us along, to hope the lights don’t fade too quickly.

Jo Jo checking out the leprechaun and fairy trio
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March 3: 6:04-6:35 – The Brain Awakens to Face the Day in a Septuple Nonet

(scroll quickly, vertically, to catch the brain wave working)…….

just finding two matching shoes to wear

or not spraying the walls with the

Water Pik, …..and Cranberry

Orange breakfast scones with

piping loose leaf tea

awakenings

are hallmarks

of bright

starts

plus

Wordle

Connections

Spelling Bee for

a brain-charged challenge

keeping synapses sharp

– these are my routine morning things

right here in rural middle Georgia

and writing friends across the nation

who inspire me to do new things:

like humbleswede, whose camper

postcards will now be mailed

and Glenda Funk, who

inspires me to

travel the

world with

new

eyes

(and to

hug my old

rescued Schnoodles),

Margaret Simon

whose baby ducks on jump

day always bring a teared smile,

and Denise Krebs, whose Mojave

desert hikes are calling my name now…

Fran Haley, my birdwatching sister

one state north in a same-named town,

wordancerblog’s March food fest

keeps tempting my tastebuds,

Sally Donnelly’s

city sights and

book talks make

me want

to

read

on a

sunny park

bench, Barb Edler

whose slam poetry

competitions inspire

me to buy tickets to a

poetry event on a stage

in Atlanta this coming April

and so many more fellow writers

whose blog are a source of daily

inspiration this month, all

awaken my brain, inspire

me to get out and live

to try new things I

wouldn’t have done

without a

friendly

nudge

Cheers to. you from my mug of green pomegranate tea

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Luck of the Irish Paint Chip Haiku in Savannah, Georgia

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

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

luck of the Irish

four leaf clover, shamrock green

winter shamrock clover patch

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

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

there’s nothing I don’t love

about the Blue Ridge Arts Center

from its towering columns

of stately presence

to its history and artful womb

this birthing center for

pottery, dance, painting,

sketching, mosaic, sculpture,

stained glass, yoga, tea blends, origami,

jewelry making, drama, weaving,

poetry, plant pressing,

paper mache, woodcarving, and

exhibits of inspiration but what

I love best is that there is something

for everyone ~

including writers

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

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

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

Read more about this year’s writing conference here.

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A Calm Christmas: After Christmas

An easier 7 foot pencil tree

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.

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A Calm Christmas: Heritage

Photo by Luna Lovegood on Pexels.com

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.

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The Peace of Home

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.

Oh, to sleep this spontaneously!