It’s kind of a rite of passage, that childhood pilgrimage to Orlando, Florida to see the castle and the mouse. Somewhere between 1974 when my parents took my brother and me and the late 1990s when I took my own children, the place got crowded – really, too crowded to enjoy. But there is this unspoken rule about taking the kids to Disney World, and so we packed them up and took them, checked the box and came home. The best memories from the 1970s trip were the A-Frame cabins we stayed in, Wilderness style, with one other family. The best memories from the 1990s trip were the night swims in the Wilderness Lodge pool. The memory of the mouse with my own children? Vague, except for the long line to get a picture.
Disney Downer Haiku
Okay, I confess:
Yeah, I’m a Disney downer.
Me?? Resounding meh.
Dad holding Ken, and me in Mickey Shirt, plus our friends, 1974
Mallory, Ansley, and Marshall with the mouse- 1997
L-R: Eunice Jones (maternal grandmother); Miriam Haynes (mother); Ann Downing (paternal aunt); Georgia Lee Haynes (paternal grandmother) in our kitchen on Hilton Head Island, S.C., November 28, 1985
Strong women raised me, and it took a village. Before my mother died, she called her husband’s older sister and handed her the reins to be sure she’d be there for me; she knew I would need my Aunt Ann’s sage advice. Elizabeth Ann Haynes Downing, a retired educator who lives an hour north of me in Atlanta, Georgia, knew well the road I would be traveling as my brother and I would be left to navigate our Dad in her absence. Other than Mom, no other person on the face of the planet had ever done such a thing successfully, and no one has since. But Aunt Ann understood what we were up against. She, too, had tried her hand at it a time or two. I have two other wonderful aunts, but Ann has a keen insight into our family dynamics that no other aunt has lived.
My Aunt Ann has been a strong presence in my life from the beginning. Below is a picture of her holding me in the spring of 1967 when I was 9 months old, and she still “holds” me today! She shops better for me than I shop for myself and has been that aunt who would buy clothes for me and for my children and send boxes of them our way. Throughout the years, her church had an annual “gently used items” sale, and she’d get there early and shop for each of us.
Ironically, she knew both my college roommate’s mother and my husband before I ever did. When I moved to my current town in Georgia to be closer to my college roommate after my first husband and I divorced, Stacey and I discovered that her mother and my aunt went to Tift College together, and they still attend those get-togethers even today. Even more surprising, Ann recognized my husband Briar (Stacey introduced me to the man who is now my husband) as the manager of her grocery store from his younger days when he was a Kroger manager! Briar and I enjoy meeting Aunt Ann and Uncle Tom at the OK Cafe, one of Atlanta’s favorite classic diners, as often as we can get to the north side of Atlanta.
And advice. She has helped me make decisions and provided guidance as my closest relative second only to my parents. In many cases, she gave career advice that only another educator can give – – like how to get to retirement the fastest way when you know it’s time and find yourself looking for the door. I wish every girl could have an aunt as wonderful and loving – and smart – as my Aunt Ann! We keep in close contact with her children, our cousins Elizabeth and John, and my brother and husband and I enjoy getting together with them whenever we can find our way to be in the same place at the same time!
Aunt Ann and me, April 1967, Waycross, Georgia
In December 2025, we celebrated Uncle Tom’s 90th birthday, and here we are below in the kitchen of their home in Brookhaven, Georgia.
I’m so blessed by this strong woman in my life, who talks family and education and politics and religion and books and all things life with me. The good Lord sure winked on me when he gave me an aunt this loving and kind!
Aunt Ann and me, December 2025, Brookhaven, Georgia
As I go through family photos this month in the process of digitizing to share with other family members, if I had to choose the most common motif of place and setting in terms of geography, it would be water. It seems logical since I grew up on the coast that there would be water in our activities, but even in places that weren’t all that watery, we still managed to somehow find the water of a place wherever we went.
As a child, I’d go with my parents and grandparents to Fernandina beach to camp and fish. After a number of years of doing that, my parents and grandparents bought a place on the Sapelo River in Georgia so they could go there instead – – they traded in tents and the camper for their own place on the river and built a dock so they could leave the boat right there instead of hauling it around all the time.
We threw cast nets and trawled for shrimp, fished, and set crab pots. We could have lived pretty much off that river. Fresh seafood was always what was for dinner. My favorite part was going through the shrimp net when they pulled it up. You never knew what was going to be in there, from squid to shrimp to crabs, eels, octopus, fish, jellyfish, and even horseshoe crabs and the occasional turtle. The critters we weren’t keeping got tossed straight back into the water quickly, and that was part of my job. I had a pair of long tongs that I could use to get these things.
The day the river property sold, I wrote about it here. I also wrote about Ootie the otter, who lived in this bend of the river and naturally seemed to take to other animals and made his home base the eagle rehabilitation center run by Emmy Minor a few docks down. I loved visiting that place.
My mother, late 1970s
My mother and her father sort through a net
My mother holding up a crab with a pair of long tongs like the ones I used
My dad with a crab pot
Lowcountry Boil was dad’s specialty, and it was sometimes what we had for holidays, too. It’s hard to eat turkey when there is fresh catch, all free straight out of the river, for the taking. And it’s tastier.
To prepare for The Next Chapter of travel in retirement, I’m learning a whole new way of wayfaring in our Tiffin Wayfarer 25 RW. My love of sleeping around the world in confined places started as a young child when my grandparents had a truck camper and went to the fish camp at Fernandina Beach for long weekends of camping and fishing. My parents came, too. Mom and Dad would pitch a tent, while my grandparents would put me to bed in their space above the truck cab and convert the dinette table into a bed for themselves. I think that’s where camping fever took hold of me, bypassing completely any love of fresh fried fish. I loved the cross-breeze of opening windows at night. Several tents, a pop-up, a teardrop and two bumper pull campers later, we decided to move to a Class C so we could blend more traveladventures into our lives.
And that’s where Harvest Hosts comes in. We’ve been members for over two years, but this weekend is the first time we’ve actually used our membership benefits.
We’ve mostly camped in State Parks and other private campgrounds, but we’ve joined a unique movement that has been gaining traction over the past few years for its innovative and inexpensive mutual benefits for travelers and business owners. Harvest Hosts allows travelers to purchase a year’s membership that offers one night of free camping per stay at wineries, farms, breweries, churches, and other types of businesses with space to park overnight. With a membership, we get full access to the directory of thousands of free overnight options. We can request additional nights in the same place, but many travelers use Harvest Hosts to get to a place where they are camping or staying for multiple nights. So on a cross-country journey where we might drive a few hours a day and then pull in somewhere to sleep at 6 or 8 different Harvest Hosts along the way, we could use one free night in each place for just the cost of membership and a purchase of something they’re selling as a way of providing some business for them.
We picked a brewery just twenty minutes down the road for our first Harvest Hosts stay, and already we see the attraction.
I used the map to find a place close by – just to test the experience. It’s all part of the learning phase of knowing new and different ways to be an RVer. I requested a same-day stay at the place we chose, Towerhouse Farm Brewery, and we pulled in and followed their check-in directions for the space to park and set up. Then, we put out the slide, leveled the rig, and started the generator before walking over to their dine-in option to have dinner and sample their craft beer.
We ran into some friends who were there having drinks and bar snacks, and so we joined them at their table and listened to the live music and shared stories. I work with one of them in the same office, and have taught with the other. They, too, are camping folks, so our stories were of travel and interesting people we’ve met along the way.
After dinner, we walked the dogs and checked out the lay of the land before retiring for the evening, There is a fairground in close proximity on this 80-acre family farm-turned-brewery tract, where they grow their own hops.
An important thing I learned about Harvest Hosts sites is to read the reviews more carefully. We’d read on the reviews that this was near train tracks, but we had no idea that the train would come by every four hours and that we would be parked right next to the tracks. Despite a shift from our typical night of unbroken rest, we made the best of it and appreciated all the things we loved ~ walking to and from dinner, seeing a new place, having an impromptu dinner with friends, and of course the joy of having our two schnoodles there for the excitement. And the train wasn’t enough to be a dealbreaker for staying there again – – we probably would!
Boo Radley (L) and Ollie (R)
The best part of camping with dogs is that they show us it’s okay to find joy being in small spaces with those we love. They would want you to know that while they let us believe it’s us they really want to be with, it’s more about getting that one small bite of a powdered donut at breakfast that makes them true camping dogs.
Our overnight spot at Tower Farmhouse Brewery
We can’t wait to discover more places along the way as we journey out more frequently in retirement. It’s not the draw of the popular places that we enjoy most – – it’s the places off the beaten path that hold just as much gravity in their own GPS points that anywhere else holds – only quieter and less crowded, despite the occasional trains.
Whenever I see a hydrangea, I think of two people. The first is my late father, who in his waning days after a lifetime of calling it a hydrangea, called it a hydranjula. Someone had brought one to the hospital, and he urged me to “take that hydranjula” home with me. Either he was used to the constant room changes or he knew his days were quickly coming to an end. I took the flower.
The second is Missy, my childhood friend who gave me a sprig of a hydrangea she’d been rooting. I transplanted it to our farmland home in middle Georgia from the island where we grew up riding bikes all over the place before it became a tourist destination. It must have wanted to be a country hydrangea, living in a quieter, less subtropical place. It’s thriving, despite my neglect of it. These are the kinds of plants I need. The kind I can plant, water, and forget – – and let nature do the rest until time for pruning.
When I saw the blank watercolor page with its step-by-step paint-on-page directions, I had no idea how to create color within color until I learned a little about wet on wet versus wet on dry painting. When a page is wet, the colors bleed together in a way that painting colors on dry pages doesn’t. I can’t think of a better flower choice to learn about wet on wet than a hydrangea, with its blending pop of colors that change based on the pH of the soil. And for once, I had a leaf actually turn out the way it’s supposed to look. I couldn’t have done that when I started, so I am learning a little as I go. I prefer slow, unhurried learning – – and ironically, it’s a lot like watercolor painting where you build layer on layer. I was never a fast learner, but once I finally get it, I’ve got a grasp.
Happy Sunday! Tomorrow, I’ll share our first experience boondocking in a Harvest Hosts site. If you’ve never heard of Harvest Hosts, it’s an innovative way to travel like a complete and total hippie – – which is my ultimate goal for the next chapter of my life. I want to be a hydranjula-painting traveling haiku-writing hippie, and I’ll show you the boondocking part of what that looks like tomorrow.
When spring days grow warm and the butterflies appear, I think of my mother and the way she always planted fennel for the Black Swallowtails to lay their eggs. Once a caterpillar breaks out of its chrysalis and greets the world, it is hungry and can munch down practically a whole wispy branch of a fennel stalk. I’ve seen it happen. While I won’t be framing this watercolor painting to hang in my kitchen as the Floral Fun page tip suggests, it does bring to mind the happiest memories of my mother and keeps her memory close.
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…..
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.
Erica and Jessica of Arkansas are our hosts today for the third and final day of the Open Write for May 2026 at http://www.ethicalela.com. They inspire us to write “found” poems not by finding lines or words from other poets by collecting thoughts and ideas of things we find. You can read their full prompt here. It’s a lot like taking a nature walk and instead of collecting pine cones or stones or feathers, poets collect moments and feelings to share.
I visited my brother on Lake Hickory over the weekend, so this morning I’m scrolling back through my photos for my “walk” back through the weekend.
It’s a Watercolor Weekend and an Open Write weekend, too – and I wish I could have painted the sky last night, but instead I am sharing a painting I started earlier this week and have not yet finished – it’s a Lily of the Valley, and I chose it for the varied shades of blue I feel when I’m around all this water. I’m on the road, so I didn’t bring my paints with me in preference for spending time with my people this weekend. This one didn’t blend well, but I do like the colors.
Our host today for the May Open Write is Jessica, who lives in Arkansas. Today, she inspires us to write about places in our state – anywhere, but particularly considering any hidden or obscure places. I’m in a uniquely-named place this morning – not in my own state, but in North Carolina visiting my brother and sister-in-law, who just bought their dream home right on Lake Hickory. I asked him, “So your house is in Hickory?” He said “No, it’s close…..it’s a Taylorsville mailing address.” And then he elaborated. “It’s actually Bethlehem. Our place on the map is in Bethlehem, North Carolina.” Our late parents would be so proud – Dad, a preacher, and Mom’s favorite Christmas carol was O Little Town of Bethlehem.
It took my breath away when I rolled in just before sunset last night. The sky changed from a watercolor palette to vibrance the opacity of oil with its blues and oranges and pinks a purples. We sat with wineglasses in hand watching it. This morning, a heron and an osprey, already, waving hello with a thousand other birds looking for breakfast. And I saw the Osprey flying high change course, dip down, skim the surface, and catch a fish. It’s spectacular to watch and resembled the eagles I saw in Alaska swooping down for fish so much that it has me wondering…..have I seen an eagle this morning??
So I’m writing about morning lake activity here in Bethlehem, North Carolina
