This cold weather has my memories of Alaska swirling like magic-dust snowflakes of wanderlust. I’ve been there twice, both times on cruises – so even though I tasted none of the “local” flavors of the non-touristy places in the nation’s largest state that was anything but a folly, both times I’ve indulged in that spectacular smoked sockeye salmon that is sliced thin and served with eggs, capers, lox and bagels. We’d go to brunch, and they’d serve it as an early tea time with breakfast for late risers being more of a light lunch.
The cold weather brought the memories, but the threat of power outages last week brought shopping for things we could eat with minimal preparation. I found a good brand in Publix over in Peachtree City and gave thanks for the fish, imagining it swimming upstream to spawn, trying to avoid the fish-spearing claws of grizzly bears out there standing on those shallow rocks as ribbons of fresh red fish flitter past their feet. The one I was holding made it back home to do its one last thing before ending up in a sliced and packaged fillet.
I always boil all of our eggs prior to a winter storm. We’ve discovered that they keep fine in a cooler on the back porch and can feed us for days on end. And when we put a little sliver of salmon on top, it’s just the ticket for an Alaskan meal right here at home in middle Georgia!
I work in an open space that used to be a midde school library, now converted to the District Office and divided with partitions into cubicles. The partitions don’t reach the ceiling, and there are no doors on the cubicles, so sometimes conversations make it challenging to stay focused and mind my own business.
A colleague suggested noise-cancelling ear buds – – said hers were “a game changer” for focus, especially when working with data and reporting.
I considered it. But it’s hard to have a pair of ear buds at home and a pair at work and feel like it’s worth springing for anything new that might be just a smidge better. Still, I checked my ear buds, hoping they had a noise cancelling feature I hadn’t yet figured out. They did not.
As I started looking at noise cancelling options, I came across a pair of headphones, not earbuds, on sale. I’d seen a good many passengers on a recent flight wearing these – in the airport and even as they boarded the plane, some even wearing them straight through the three hour flight. What was I missing?
I decided to take a chance and try a pair. If I didn’t like them, I could always send them back. They were over 50 percent off, and from a reputable brand. Most important, they were noise-cancelling, and they came in faint rose petal pink!
I’m not sure whether it’s their petal-pinkness or their noise-cancelling magic, but my colleague was right – – –these are 100% a game changer. As a bonus, I recently discovered Kate Baer’s writing playlist, so this is my go-to for sustaining focus. My work buddy has helped me find a way to enhance my work experience with calming music.
If I had a freeway billboard, it would say If you haven’t had pizza for dinner at Frank’s Filling Station on the backside of nowhere in the rural Georgia Countryside off Highway 362 in Hollonville, you haven’t fully lived, ‘specially if you didn’t split a Little Debbie Double Oatmeal Cream Pie with your sweetie for dessert.
dinner wasn’t planned
we just ended up hungry
looking for some food
I was delivering a Facebook Marketplace sale of the last of my Longaberger collection from the 1990s ~ a lidded piece of Christmas pottery. I sold all but one of my baskets a couple of years ago in the sweeping house cleanout, but the pottery popped up needing a better home, and some man in a small silver sportscar pulled up next to us as we waited at Frank’s Filling Station, the designated meeting spot to do the business. I handed him the dish, and he handed me the cash.
The next obvious question at that time of the day was what was for dinner – a common conversation for two tired full-time working folks. We went down the list of possibilities, but nothing was appealing much to either of our appetites.
Wouldn’t it be fun to see if we can each eat dinner on five bucks? I asked my husband, eyeing the filling station and wondering whether they might have a little cafe inside. The place had just been redone a year ago, and neither of us had been inside since. I’d just picked up an easy ten dollars, and I sure didn’t mind splitting it with the love of my life to feed us both. It would be a fun challenge to see if we could stay within budget.
He took me up on it.
I eyed the boiled peanuts. They have regular and Cajun in there, and I do love the spicy ones. Probably not the best choice that close to bedtime, though. I scanned the cooler of local beef from Caldwell Farms and made a mental note to come back for some another time when I planned to cook at home. We spied the barrel tables next to the window and took a look at the food options – cheeseburgers, fries, pizza, chicken wings, hot dogs, and even a fried bologna sandwich. That’s how you know you’re in the country is when you see a fried bologna sandwich.
We settled on the pizza and two bottled drinks, and sat at a table to eat and watch the people coming and going – and that is a lot of excitement on a weeknight for the place where we live. My back was to the door, but when the last two pizzas walked out in the arms of a young man, my husband whispered that he was glad we got ours when we did. It wasn’t fabulous pizza, but it was decent, and that was good enough for a Tuesday night.
Did we stay under budget? Nope. We went over by $1.80 before adding the Oatmeal Cream Pie. We’d already blown the bank, so we splurged on a $2.00 deluxe dessert we could split, and we were grateful for the sustenance.
So if you’ve never had dinner at Frank’s Filling Station in Hollonville, Georgia, add it to your list of things to do if you’re ever an hour south of the Atlanta airport. They also have Hollonville, Georgia t-shirts in there, and those are as rare as hen’s teeth and would make great conversation starters for traveling. Keep a lookout for us ~ we might just be at a barrel table by the window.
On the heels of a missing grill that vanished from an AirBNB while we were gone to a birthday party and an unexpected early-morning knock at the door that turned out to be a Northern Flicker attempting to demolish the cabin we were occupying for the weekend, I came home from Kentucky to three boxes on the porch – two of which were late Christmas presents arriving after the fact. The third presented yet another mystery in these days of stranger things. There was no gift card from the recipient enclosed.
I called my brother and sister in law, who said they didn’t send the art canvas of a red Japanese tree against the backdrop of snow-covered mountains looking like Fuji, with two black metal benches on each side. Nor did any of our children. I texted a friend in one of my writing circles who just got back from Tokyo and collects art. It wasn’t her, either. I sent a text out to the full family group with my husband holding the picture: Anyone know anything about this? it read.
The mysterious art canvas (Boo Radley’s feet far right corner)
I did a little research and learned that I may be the victim of a brushing scam, where people receive things they never ordered in the first place as freebies from companies seeking verified purchaser top review status. All evening, I watched videos of the random things people sometimes get. There is no risk for the victims, either, other than needing to change passwords frequently. These recipients of everyday’s-like-Christmas surprises just have to make extra trips to the dump or find ways of getting rid of whatever doesn’t fit into their lives until the packages stop arriving and the review scammers move on to other recipients. I reported the package to Amazon with the tracking number, and they replied that it would take ten days to do an investigation.
I can’t help considering the irony of this scam in light of all that has transpired this year. We started cleaning out our house and barn in 2024 when we started the journey of downsizing with the dream of building a smaller living space on the farm. In 2025, my brother, our spouses and I shared the task of cleaning out our Dad’s house and seven storage rooms. They were full of books, art, dishes, lamps, furniture, pretty much everything you can imagine, and other “rare collectibles” because Dad was a hoarder who could never get rid of anything. I looked at the canvas of the red Japanese tree and chuckled, wondering if somehow this is him pranking me beyond the grave, particularly as I have wept real tears over the harvesting of all the trees on Briar’s family farm since April. Surely this canvas carries some kind of message I haven’t figured out yet.
For now, I’ll sit tight and wonder, as all the other brushing scam victims do, what might arrive next. I’d love one of those shiny silver coffee makers that grind the beans and do all sorts of fancy brewing like cappuccinos and espressos and lattes. I’ll take a king-size Nectar adjustable bed, with two cool-temp pillows and a massage feature. The latest Apple Watch (I have never owned one) might be a nice surprise if I can figure out how to turn the notifications off, plus some good winter boots with arch support, maybe Aetrex brand, in black leather. Those are the things I’m hoping my brushers will send next – – and I’ll even write their glowing 5-star reviews myself in exchange for all the free stuff.
A Call To Action Haiku, Celebrating Surprise Photographic Art
brushing scam victims
unite with glowing reviews
for free merchandise
Here is my free review of this art canvas that I’m considering actually adding to Amazon:
This canvas is the perfect size print to go over a bed or to hang on a bland wall space. It’s guaranteed to bring both boldness of vibrant color and tranquility of empty bench solitude all at once as it reminds us that there is indeed sunlight just beyond each cloud in the sky. The mountain spirit is alive and well, beckoning our very souls to reach for new heights even as we keep our feet on the ground and our lives simple and rooted in nature. Art lovers looking for cryptic messages they can apply to their own lives will delight in the vibes and reminders that living things all bloom and thrive where they are planted and that to everything, there is a season. The tree reinforces the notion that no matter where we go, there we are, and that we should never, ever forget our lipstick. There is much to be seen from a distance that you cannot appreciate close up with your boots in the snow. It’s all a matter of perspective, we find, as we gaze into the possibility of each vantage point as we stand considering angles. Yes, in this print, we feel a deep sense of belonging. We are branches on the tree of all humanity, each of us one mere leaf, hanging in our own time and place in the history of generations who have come and gone before us, even as we consider the promise of future generations if the world does not end in an apocalyptic rapture at the touch of a button by some bratty lollipop-spoiled kid who grew up to be a tyrant with a tortured soul in North Korea – or anywhere, for that matter. And these emotions are just the tip of the ice-covered mountain for the depths of discovery in this one canvas that is the most unexpected kind money can buy without, you know, actually being there in person, which would cost way more. Get yours today, and you will never look back – – only inward and upward henceforth. (Brushing Scammers, thank you for this delightful gift).
On our final morning in the cabin situated on the Rough River in Falls of Rough, Kentucky, I got up to count birds and feel the cool breeze of the upper 50s against a frigid gray sky. The clouds are swirling from the SSW to the ENE much like the Jolly Green Giant’s cigarette if he smoked, and the birds are out here spilling all their secrets and gossiping in languages I wish I could interpret. I’m sitting at 37.35.18N/86.33.1W at 430 ft. elevation, and in this one tiny spot on the face of planet Earth, there is magic in the air. No one is out here to hear it except me: I am alone, and there isn’t a soul around, at least not that I can see. An occasional truck ambles past on the road adjacent to the cabin.
When we arrived back from the next county over for our grandson’s first birthday party in Daviess County, Kentucky, we discovered that of the two grills that sat at the foot of the steps, one was gone that had been there earlier in the day. I hoped there wasn’t a grill theft where we could be questioned, but there were also two perfectly new bikes hanging from the porch that were still there, leading us to conclude that there mustn’t be much crime in this part of Kentucky. We also noticed strange wood shavings by the front door, as if a repair had been done while we were gone. We didn’t think much else about it, went to bed and turned on the sound machine, and brought the dogs out around 4:30 a.m. to find that everything was dark and still, just as we’d expected.
When I rose a little more than an hour later to sit outdoors and enjoy the quiet of the morning, I heard a knock at the door shortly after I’d flipped the coffee pot switch on. Surely no one was needing to borrow a cup of sugar we didn’t have at this hour of the morning, but in the absence of a peephole in the door, I listened carefully. This was no person. It sounded like an animal, perhaps a raccoon or possum, knocking around on the porch.
My husband was still sound asleep with the dogs in the back room, so I set my camera to video while I opened the door – just in case anything happened to me, so there would be evidence of any murder that was about to happen on my phone. I slowly twisted the deadbolt and turned the knob lock, then opened the door.
No one was there, human or animal, yet the knocking continued. I stepped out into the wood shavings, camera pointed up in the direction of the sound overhead, and as a wood chip fell at my feet, a Northern Flicker took off and landed on a branch of a tree by the river. Mystery solved! This was no cabin repair. It was a woodpecker doing his thing. I still had no explanation for the missing grill, but at least I knew where the wood chips had come from.
I’ll send the video to the cabin manager when we check out, but of course it will not take any stars away from the review. If anything, a mischievous woodpecker with a flair for a little destructive behavior and shrill calls only adds to the appeal of a place.
On the morning bird count, I counted 24 species and felt the peace puddling all around me as I did. I’m enamored with the beauty and humor of birds, but sometimes I forget how destructive they can be. As I consider it all from their perspective, I imagine that if I were a woodpecker in these parts, I might try to tear down the houses of any humans that threatened my territory. Show ’em who’s boss.
We’re in Kentucky celebrating our grandson’s first birthday. When my daughter was pregnant with him, she’d call to tell me how fast the bean was growing. Here we are, at a first birthday party after what seems like only a month since he arrived. Happy birthday, Silas! We love you so much!
I sit in a rustic green rocker on a porch facing the Rough River in Falls of Rough, Kentucky this morning with a cup of coffee. A thousand birds are worshiping their maker in glorious song, competing with the heater that sits adjacent to the front porch. Here is my list of choir members so far:
American Robin
Belted Kingisher
Northern Cardinal
European Starling
White Throated Sparrow
Yellow-rumped Warbler (butterbutt)
Song Sparrow
House Sparrow
Tufted Titmouse
Mourning Dove
Carolina Wren
Red-tailed Hawk
House Finch
Blue Jay
American Crow
Ring-billed Gull
Canada Goose
It’s the robins who are leading in worship here this morning. They all are competing for the title of soloist extraordinare. In the distance, I hear a woodpecker, but he is beating the drum and not singing, so I cannot tell what kind he is.
The river is still, smooth as glass and muddy. and of the ten or so cabins in this remote area, only one other is occupied. There isn’t another soul outside, so I hold the only ticket to this private concert-for-one.
At least for now. The boys will be up shortly.
OOh, ooh – and just now, the woodpecker flew across the river to a hole in a tree, and I can see that it is one of the smaller varieties. And then it attempts its own clownish note, and Merlin declares it is a Northern Flicker.
The sky is a steel gray with morning clouds supposed to burn off by mid-morning. We came in after dark last night and can hear the falls rushing under the bridge we drove across, but that will take a walk or ride to see them.
for just this moment
the rest of the world stands still
I bask in birdsong
Then, all at once, every bird ceases to sing, as if their concert has ended with one Amen in unison, and they have other things to do, other places to be. I am left alone in the silence of this porch, where three small noses are sniffing under the front door to take in the world here outside and to remind me that they, too, have their own offerings to give. That’s my beckoning to get up and help Briar walk them on their leashes down to the water’s edge and hold on tight, at least where Fitz-the-brave-hunter-of-anything-that-moves is concerned.
I can see how Ada Limon, the U.S. Poet Laureate who lives in Lexington, Kentucky, finds her writing groove here in this state. There is magic in the air for those who take the time to notice.
Later today, at 2:00 Kentucky time, I’ll attend my grandson’s first birthday party. He’ll be one tomorrow, and what a joy he is! In the flurry of activity and excitement, I will think back to this porch and all its lack of demands and be thankful that God gives us children when we are young, so that in our golden years we can fully appreciate the power of the front porch.
Gayle Sands of Maryland is our host today for the third and final day of the January 2025 Open Write. She inspires us to write holiday versions of the viral I Am poem, a template for which you can find here. You can read her full prompt, mentor poem, and the poems of others here. There is a whole movement that emerged from this poem, and the I Am Project page can be found here.
Haynes Homestead Holidays
I am from the sequined felt stockings
of oranges, nuts, and candy cane dreams
From Life Savers Story Books that weren’t at all and a
red-headed Chrissy doll in an orange dress
but never that Lite Brite I wanted
I am from the Island Padre’s pastorium
under the Live Oaks with a round disc tree swing
the one with the brick fence
and a chalkboard in the back yard
for playing school with stolen chalk
I am from the daylilies no one ever saw
and the oleanders I feared would kill the dog
from the ever-blooming Christmas cactus
generations deep
until I killed it
I’m from Christmas Eve Candlelight Services
from singing Silent Night in a congregational circle
in the dark, cold churchyard
From Joneses and Hayneses
one side complete chaos, the other complete order
from junk drawers galore to every spare nail and screw in its place
I’m from the silver tinsel tree
with Sears Wishbook presents wrapped in Santa paper
and fruitcake cookies we pretended to like
from high noon resentment
and questions that weren’t meant that way
I’m from driftwood and oyster shell Nativity sets
from going with the flow to cloistered
I’m from deep South Georgia roots I’m glad I escaped
preferring mountains over islands and choices I never had
From Lowcountry boil with Old Bay on Christmas Day
From the preacher granddaddy taking candy from a lady
on Bourbon Street trying to pray with her
to the other granddaddy I caught nipping from the bottle in the garage
From the uncle drunk in a train wreck who lived to see jail
from seven storage rooms of too much stuff I never want to see again
.
………except maybe those cereal box California Raisins
the ones that stood proudly on Noah’s Ark
when the kids played Save the World, those raisins
My cousin Elizabeth, center, with us and her parents – my Aunt Ann and Uncle Tom
As far back as I can remember growing up, my dad’s only sister, Ann, has been an active part of my life. She married Tom Downing before I turned one, and they have been there through it all ~ birthdays, holidays, weddings, graduations, and funerals. Aunt Ann can shop for me better than I can shop for myself. She has an eye for putting together an outfit, and she has done this for me and for my grandchildren on several occasions. When my mother died, sisterless herself, she’d phoned Ann with a request before she left this earth.
“Be there for Kim when I’m gone,” she’d asked of my aunt. “She’s going to need you. You know why.”
It didn’t take me long to figure out why I would be spending hours each week on the phone with her. She was the only one who could help me navigate my dad, her brother, who didn’t particularly care for strong women. He was all for women in leadership roles – until they tried to lead him anywhere, and trying to help my dad in his later years would take strength and something I lack when my patience runs out: tact. And so Aunt Ann, always a strong Southern woman to the core and dripping in class, carries the torch as the voice of wisdom whenever I need to talk. She helped me through those final years with Dad, who did not know how to do life without my mother and swore off help from anyone until the bitter end. I could not have survived without my Aunt Ann to lean on.
When my cousin Elizabeth called to invite us to Uncle Tom’s 90th birthday this past Saturday, my husband and I made the drive to their home in Ashford-Dunwoody in Brookhaven, just north of Atlanta, to be part of the festivities. We were blessed to be part of that day, sharing in the memories and the moments of belonging as family. In the midst of the holiday season, with this being the first Christmas without Dad after losing him in June, these times seem to carry more weight. As I walked through their house, each room brought back such memories of all the years there for various events, and I felt the shadow of my childhood self playing games on Thanksgiving Day in the basement while the men watched football and the women cooked. The moments of today carry far more layers of meaning as I return to their home, the place of old pictures and relatives long gone now. Ann and I stood on her front porch for a few moments alone together, remembering the space where we’d all stood smiling as Uncle Tom brought his camera for photos, the space now every bit as sacred as the circle at the Grand Ole Opry, preserved through the years and taken into the newer building just to keep the same floor where the stars have all stood.
We wish Tom a very happy birthday, and cheers to the years ahead and all the years behind along the journey that brought us to now.
it all matters more
today than ever before
these crossroads of life
Aunt Ann’s porch of family pictures through the years
Common Threads 