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

Girls’ Getaway to 1811 Sunflower Farm Cottage in Rutledge, Georgia

We get away a few times a year to

read,

write,

talk,

s

sleep,

eat,

think,

work crossword puzzles,

adventure,

travel,

lounge,

sip wine, and

laugh late into the night.

This time, my sister-in-law and I rented an old farmhouse from 1811 in Rutledge, Georgia for two nights. I’m sharing the photos below. If you ever need a place near the University of Georgia but on the backside of nowhere, check out the 1811 Sunflower Farmhouse on Airbnb. We entertained the ghosts and wondered what their lives were like with 12 children living in the upstairs loft like Laura and Mary of Little House on the Prairie days.

From the time we saw the daffodils greeting us at the front stoop, we knew we’d found a friendly place to spend a couple of nights. The front porch confirmed it, with its lazy rocking chairs and climbing vine with a bird nest hidden in the foliage, looking a little bit like a Goldilocks house without the bears.

We opened the rustic door to the welcoming charm of the antiquated farmhouse and were swept back to 1811, imagining the satisfaction of the new homeowners of a bygone era, who have long since departed this life. The second set of owners had 12 children sleeping in the loft upstairs.

There were no building codes in 1811, and I understood at once after climbing and descending these steps why they threw all the youngsters up there. I went up long enough to get pictures and admire the ceilings and antiques up there, but after my fall on the steps at work a few years ago when I broke my ankle, I held on extra tight. 1811 held elements of danger everywhere. I could not stop thinking about fire and falls, and those were just the two obvious threats.

This is the bed where my sister in law slept, figuring that she was less likely to bang her head on the ceiling if she had to get up in the middle of the night and make her way down to the bathroom on the first floor.

This is the bed where I slept (I’m older than she is, weigh more than she does, and those steps were too steep for me – so I took her up on the offer to sleep downstairs). It was cozy and warm thanks to the electric heater (a look-alike fireplace) tucked into the fireplace at the foot of the bed. The farmhouse does have central heating, but the lack of insulation made the heaters extra-appreciated with the ever-present chill in the air! I’d predicted that with an old house like this, I would need my heated throw, and it sure came in handy!

The front and back doors had different latches to hold them shut at the top and the bottom, but we still had to use the stuffed pillow at the foot to keep the drafts out. Thank goodness for a sister in law who can figure out the tricky latches of yesteryear.

The nostalgia is real, and the tub is beautiful, but let me be clear and completely transparent: this tub ain’t for old people with hips and knees on the verge of collapse. I got to the point where I had to rinse off, but I showered quickly and exited this beauty of a tub. A long soak with salts and bubbles was out of the question. I would not want to climb in and out of an old tub often.

On the description, we noted the farmhouse had a kitchenette, but we were disappointed when we arrived that it was not to be found. Not until one of us went to the bathroom, only to discover that the kitchenette is tucked away – a tiny space all its own behind the water closet (you can see the edge of the toilet in the lower left of the photo). We were glad we finally found it, since we’d stopped to get groceries (yogurt, milk, cheese) so we wouldn’t have to leave if we didn’t want to go anywhere.

I worked a crossword together with my oldest daughter, who lives in Las Vegas. I’d send photos and she’d send answers, and I’d update what I had added. It’s nice having the time to enjoy the unexpected small surprise moments that you can capture on a getaway when you finally have a little time for enjoyment on your hands.

And we all need more of that!


Blue Ridge Writer’s Conference – Day 2 – The Art of Revision

Saturday’s sessions

Revising with Scissors Nonet

so much to learn in these writing sessions

we brainstorm, jot ideas, arrange words

we consider other structures

we cut out inked passages

using sharp-tongued scissors

that speak only truth

we reread, smile

revisions

forgive

shears

Jessica Handler led a session on using sensory details in writing to make characters come alive
We shared our favorite techniques using what we’re currently writing as our material for organizing in different ways. Mickey is a master at teaching how to outline!

I didn’t want to leave. I wanted the writer’s conference to last a full week, and I wanted to stay in a lodge with other writers, where we could sit in the common room by the fire in the evenings in sweatpants and scarves and sip wine and share writing. But I keep that vision in my mind, that image of total peace and bliss, and carry it with me back into reality on the heels of this fabulous winter break.

I’m already looking forward to next year’s conference.

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.

The Taste Test

when you want an excuse for more donuts

but don’t want to be seen as a pig

give it another purpose

(pretend you don’t want the donuts)

schedule a

Saturday morning taste test

in the name of science

and product review

line them up

be indecisive

above all

remain inconclusive

with intentions of

another taste test

A Paint Chip Haiku Chain

Nothing thrills me more than going in the hardware store and swiping a few paint chips for writing poems. Today, I’ve taken a variety of colors on a theme and created chained haiku using the words on the chips.

solemn silence ~ hush

meditation time: journal

white – windswept leaves write

a dandelion

wish across green hillside groves

{{spring grass love poems}}

fresh sprout rainwater

mossy cavern healing plants

enchanted meadows

February Open Write Day 5: Characters We’ve Loved

Photo by Dan K Joseph on Pexels.com

Seana Hurd Wright of Los Angeles is our host today for the fifth and final day of the February Open Write at http://www.ethicalela.com. You can read Seana’s full prompt and the poems of others here. Today, Seana inspires us to write poems about the favorite characters we’ve had over the years.

Christopher Robin for President

I

wore the

shirts growing

up, emblazoned

with Winnie the Pooh

Sears Catalog clothing

of the Hundred Acre Wood

where Christopher Robin’s friends

diverse as they were, got along

and I want to start a shirt movement:

let’s all move to the Hundred Acre Wood

(which doesn’t need to be made great again)

because it never lost its friendship

nor its caring for others, nor

its giving more than it it took

you see, those characters

had embracing hearts

who knew how to

keep focus

on what

lasts

February Open Write Day 4: Inhabiting Life More Fully

Photo by Tirachard Kumtanom on Pexels.com

Amber from Oklahoma is our host today for the fourth day of the February Open Write. She inspires us to write observational haikus, just as the main character in Poet X by Elizabeth Acevedo does. You can read Amber’s full prompt and the poems of others here.

life rhythms in taps

fingers counting syllables

taking it all in

making sense this way

of all that’s illogical

poems can do that

February Open Write Day 3: Healing Hurts

Photo by Min An on Pexels.com

Our host today for the third day of the February Open Write at http://www.ethicalela.com is Britt Decker of Texas. She inspires us to write poems of hurt and healing You can read Britt’s full prompt and the poems of others here. Britt inspires us to write a poem in any form we’d like that considers a moment, object, process, relationship, or anything else, that has simultaneously acted as a healing and hurting agent. 

depths of forgiveness

understood, finally, as

she welcomed her child