Woke up with a wild hair;
We were going to get out of here.
Spring was calling our names;
It was time for us to hear.
At first I thought that a hike
Would be the perfect way
To see what we could see
And enjoy a sense of play.
After driving down to Tellico,
It was almost time for lunch.
Would we have Sunday dinner,
Or a nice Sunday brunch?
We took a leisurely Sunday
Drive, to Maryville and back.
We lunched at Giovanni’s,
Then we were back on track
For cumulus cloud watching
Over the mountains of Tennessee,
Another dimension to the vistas
Of Appalachian hill country.
Monday, April 26, 2010
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Gardening, Garlic, and Great Guests
Thanks to a gift from my niece Ginette, I finally got around to some outdoor work in my own yard. I’ve been so sedentary with all this driving around and writing that I hadn’t even thrown out the dead potted plants from last fall. Ginette’s gift of phlox and grape hyacinth from her garden got me moving in that direction; I needed the dirt from the potted plants for my new deck décor.
While I was outside potting, I did a little more digging in the dirt to clear some of the “wildflowers” – otherwise known as “weeds” from our flower beds. The dandelions are everywhere this year, including growing with great abandon between the granite chips that make up our front walkway. With a “yard” of over four acres, I rally needed to pick my battles, so I decided that anything green growing in the lawn could stay, while any wild thing growing in granite or my garden has to go.
I was really moving along, happily harvesting the weeds when I came upon a conundrum. I greatly admire thistles, and have photographed many a beautiful butterfly on their blooms. Directly in front of my azaleas, right next to our front steps, is a big thistle in all its prickly perfection. There was no way I could bring myself to uproot such a gift. So much for that well-groomed cottage look; you just can’t control Mother Nature.
The evening hours brought hailstorms and bluegrass. The crowd was small at Charlie and Deborah’s Coker Creek Saloon, probably because of the severe weather warnings. The weather didn’t deter Richard’s preparation of dining delights, however. Everyone enjoyed his sirloin tip tacos, even though I was a bit worried about how they’d be received; I had never before seen a recipe that called for a cup of fresh garlic.
His mandarin orange cake was so good and beautiful that Trailrider Nancy declared that she felt like we were back at the Whitestone Inn where we celebrated Charlie’s birthday. A friend of Charlie’s visiting from Alaska ate three pieces. I guess it was better than good!
One of the great things about the bluegrass pickin’ is that Charlie and Deborah host so many people from so many places. I could have spent about a week with these folks from Alaska; they were so interesting. In the brief time we were with them, we learned that he was a home builder to the rich and famous in this life, and that he had a very story-worthy, if not story-book past life.
He lost his parents in an automobile accident when he was two-years-old. After a series of foster homes he “struck out on his own” at the age of eleven without ever having attended school. By the time he was fourteen, he had acquired his first golden glove award. At seventeen, he retired from prize fighting after a concussion so serious that it caused him to stutter. By this time he had also had his nose broken ten times.
Like this wasn’t enough hard luck, within a couple of months, he was drafted and sent to Vietnam. While there, he was stabbed once and shot twice, once in the back. He was released from duty with the prediction that he’d never again walk. He says that a violent sneeze led to the return of feeling and mobility in his legs. Must have been some sneeze!
The up side of his infirmity is that a corpsman taught him to read. He’s been married to the same woman, a professional photographer, for forty seven years. She showed me stunning photographs of their area of Alaska.
Mr. Bluegrass, Charlie Harper, was also in attendance with the demo copy of his latest upcoming CD. It couldn’t have been a better crowd.
While I was outside potting, I did a little more digging in the dirt to clear some of the “wildflowers” – otherwise known as “weeds” from our flower beds. The dandelions are everywhere this year, including growing with great abandon between the granite chips that make up our front walkway. With a “yard” of over four acres, I rally needed to pick my battles, so I decided that anything green growing in the lawn could stay, while any wild thing growing in granite or my garden has to go.
I was really moving along, happily harvesting the weeds when I came upon a conundrum. I greatly admire thistles, and have photographed many a beautiful butterfly on their blooms. Directly in front of my azaleas, right next to our front steps, is a big thistle in all its prickly perfection. There was no way I could bring myself to uproot such a gift. So much for that well-groomed cottage look; you just can’t control Mother Nature.
The evening hours brought hailstorms and bluegrass. The crowd was small at Charlie and Deborah’s Coker Creek Saloon, probably because of the severe weather warnings. The weather didn’t deter Richard’s preparation of dining delights, however. Everyone enjoyed his sirloin tip tacos, even though I was a bit worried about how they’d be received; I had never before seen a recipe that called for a cup of fresh garlic.
His mandarin orange cake was so good and beautiful that Trailrider Nancy declared that she felt like we were back at the Whitestone Inn where we celebrated Charlie’s birthday. A friend of Charlie’s visiting from Alaska ate three pieces. I guess it was better than good!
One of the great things about the bluegrass pickin’ is that Charlie and Deborah host so many people from so many places. I could have spent about a week with these folks from Alaska; they were so interesting. In the brief time we were with them, we learned that he was a home builder to the rich and famous in this life, and that he had a very story-worthy, if not story-book past life.
He lost his parents in an automobile accident when he was two-years-old. After a series of foster homes he “struck out on his own” at the age of eleven without ever having attended school. By the time he was fourteen, he had acquired his first golden glove award. At seventeen, he retired from prize fighting after a concussion so serious that it caused him to stutter. By this time he had also had his nose broken ten times.
Like this wasn’t enough hard luck, within a couple of months, he was drafted and sent to Vietnam. While there, he was stabbed once and shot twice, once in the back. He was released from duty with the prediction that he’d never again walk. He says that a violent sneeze led to the return of feeling and mobility in his legs. Must have been some sneeze!
The up side of his infirmity is that a corpsman taught him to read. He’s been married to the same woman, a professional photographer, for forty seven years. She showed me stunning photographs of their area of Alaska.
Mr. Bluegrass, Charlie Harper, was also in attendance with the demo copy of his latest upcoming CD. It couldn’t have been a better crowd.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Heady Happenings
How heady is this? I have a second author all set to publish. Nancy and I met only less than one month ago, and she told me then that she was very anxious to get her work in print. Man-oh-man, did she ever mean it! Not only is Nancy a talented writer, she’s also a professional illustrator and graphic designer (or are they the same thing?) She’s already got her pages formatted, her illustrations in order, and her cover created.
For my part, I’ve registered Nancy’s book for its own ISBN number; we’ll copyright it just before sending it to the printer. All she needs now is for me to run over to her house and dump it onto my computer and then upload it to the printer by way of the internet. I’ll arrange for a final edit, and Nancy’s book will be ready to retail.
As unbelievable as it may be to many who spend most of their waking hours in cyberspace, there are still many who choose not to have the whole world invading their living rooms and home offices. It just so happens that a lot of these people are of an age that they have many valuable life lessons for us, but no good way to get their messages to the masses. I may have found a real publishing niche. How cool would it be to be the publisher of the wit and wisdom of the seniors who’ve seen so much change in their lifetimes and survived, with their wit and wits intact, to tell about it?
I’m really excited about Nancy’s book. I’ve been seeking to hear the voices of women’s spiritual journeys, especially as exhibited in the arts. Nancy’s first published work is what she calls a “wonder journal” -- and for good reason. Her poems, stories, and illustrations are whimsical and witty, while still being positively passionate about her faith journey. I like it when people share the laughter of the Creator, not just the hellfire and brimstone.
For those who are anxiously awaiting Jack’s next set of stories, he’s not forgotten. It’s just that it takes a bit more effort to publish anything typed on a manual typewriter. We are slowly getting his work scanned into our computers for first review by the copy editors. I’ve already had a couple of potential editors scared off by the volume of the work coming out of my computer across the wires to their email inboxes. If all goes well from this point forward, we hope to have Jack’s collection of refreshingly righteous romances ready for the fall season of tourists in Tennessee.
My book based on my blog is at the editor now; if she doesn’t run screaming from her office when she gets the entries, we may have it ready for retail by mid-June. Since Susan has edited my work before, I hope my latest recipes and rants won’t be too scary for her.
For my part, I’ve registered Nancy’s book for its own ISBN number; we’ll copyright it just before sending it to the printer. All she needs now is for me to run over to her house and dump it onto my computer and then upload it to the printer by way of the internet. I’ll arrange for a final edit, and Nancy’s book will be ready to retail.
As unbelievable as it may be to many who spend most of their waking hours in cyberspace, there are still many who choose not to have the whole world invading their living rooms and home offices. It just so happens that a lot of these people are of an age that they have many valuable life lessons for us, but no good way to get their messages to the masses. I may have found a real publishing niche. How cool would it be to be the publisher of the wit and wisdom of the seniors who’ve seen so much change in their lifetimes and survived, with their wit and wits intact, to tell about it?
I’m really excited about Nancy’s book. I’ve been seeking to hear the voices of women’s spiritual journeys, especially as exhibited in the arts. Nancy’s first published work is what she calls a “wonder journal” -- and for good reason. Her poems, stories, and illustrations are whimsical and witty, while still being positively passionate about her faith journey. I like it when people share the laughter of the Creator, not just the hellfire and brimstone.
For those who are anxiously awaiting Jack’s next set of stories, he’s not forgotten. It’s just that it takes a bit more effort to publish anything typed on a manual typewriter. We are slowly getting his work scanned into our computers for first review by the copy editors. I’ve already had a couple of potential editors scared off by the volume of the work coming out of my computer across the wires to their email inboxes. If all goes well from this point forward, we hope to have Jack’s collection of refreshingly righteous romances ready for the fall season of tourists in Tennessee.
My book based on my blog is at the editor now; if she doesn’t run screaming from her office when she gets the entries, we may have it ready for retail by mid-June. Since Susan has edited my work before, I hope my latest recipes and rants won’t be too scary for her.
Friday, April 23, 2010
Schemes and Dreams
Wrapping up Nancy’s book,
Adding recipes to mine;
Sending Jack’s work to the editor.
Where will I find the time
To do anything but write,
And polish, and publish books?
I have classes to plan and teach,
Like the one for couples who cook.
I also have a club to start,
In my native New Orleans.
My days just aren’t quite long enough
For all my schemes and dreams.
Adding recipes to mine;
Sending Jack’s work to the editor.
Where will I find the time
To do anything but write,
And polish, and publish books?
I have classes to plan and teach,
Like the one for couples who cook.
I also have a club to start,
In my native New Orleans.
My days just aren’t quite long enough
For all my schemes and dreams.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Sunrise in the Smokies
A veil over the morning,
Being lifted by the sun.
Puffs of vapor rising from
The Smokies at break of day.
Each mile a bit brighter,
Every turn a bit clearer.
A bright spring day awaits me,
At our Tennessee Mountain Home.
Being lifted by the sun.
Puffs of vapor rising from
The Smokies at break of day.
Each mile a bit brighter,
Every turn a bit clearer.
A bright spring day awaits me,
At our Tennessee Mountain Home.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Passionate Pursuits
I’ve decided that the only way to enjoy my life is to combine business with pleasure, since the only reason I’m in business is for the pleasure of the company of those I represent. I set out this week to make the connections that will make help me succeed in my passionate pursuits.
It was a whirlwind trip, but very worth the drive. Not only did I see Susan and renew our friendship, she also agreed to sign on again on as my editor. We met many years ago at a PBS art auction, and then again in a writers’ class – both in New Orleans, before Katrina. Our friendship flourished, as did our sharing of the love of the arts and our artistic and other skills. Katrina killed both our neighborhoods, so we have had to seek new homes. We finally have a plan that will, hopefully, keep our friendship fresh no matter where we live.
In the Cincinnati area, I have a niece whose company I enjoy in the extreme. She somehow juggles her marriage and four children with a very successful career as a financial analyst at a large publishing house, all with a ready laugh and a delightful outlook on life. She managed to put clean sheets on a son’s bed for my slumber, make a pot of gumbo for me to feast on, take me along with two of her sons on a post-supper fishing expedition at a local park, and still sit down with me to discuss business.
I came away with a commitment from her to handle my business accounts. Now, we have reasons other than familial relationship to get together on a regular basis. She and her children can also come to Granny Camp this summer as an extra perk of her being my accountant.
We lost our dear neighbors, Sheila and Tom, to Katrina’s blows; they’re now in a suburb of Cincinnati. Sheila is an incredibly talented multi-discipline artist, and Tom is a retired fighter pilot and rocket scientist. Sheila was right up my alley and Tom was right up Richard’s. Losing them as neighbors was a primary reason I had no hesitation about giving up my fantasy of rebuilding on the lake.
Our first experience with Sheila was with her voice wafting over the water as she practiced her operatic arias. We’d see Tom coming and going to the glider hanger that he shared with several glider enthusiasts. As we got to know their interests, Sheila and I would share bits of our culinary creations and discuss all manner of arts and philosophy while Richard and Tom would have grand boating adventures and building projects, and bonded over shared volunteer work on the Higgins boats at the World War II Museum. I can’t even express what a great loss they were as our neighbors.
Sheila has agreed to have me help represent her visual arts. I’m so hoping that she’ll also teach some classes on her passionate pursuits. At least, we’ll now have a reason to see each other again soon.
It was a whirlwind trip, but very worth the drive. Not only did I see Susan and renew our friendship, she also agreed to sign on again on as my editor. We met many years ago at a PBS art auction, and then again in a writers’ class – both in New Orleans, before Katrina. Our friendship flourished, as did our sharing of the love of the arts and our artistic and other skills. Katrina killed both our neighborhoods, so we have had to seek new homes. We finally have a plan that will, hopefully, keep our friendship fresh no matter where we live.
In the Cincinnati area, I have a niece whose company I enjoy in the extreme. She somehow juggles her marriage and four children with a very successful career as a financial analyst at a large publishing house, all with a ready laugh and a delightful outlook on life. She managed to put clean sheets on a son’s bed for my slumber, make a pot of gumbo for me to feast on, take me along with two of her sons on a post-supper fishing expedition at a local park, and still sit down with me to discuss business.
I came away with a commitment from her to handle my business accounts. Now, we have reasons other than familial relationship to get together on a regular basis. She and her children can also come to Granny Camp this summer as an extra perk of her being my accountant.
We lost our dear neighbors, Sheila and Tom, to Katrina’s blows; they’re now in a suburb of Cincinnati. Sheila is an incredibly talented multi-discipline artist, and Tom is a retired fighter pilot and rocket scientist. Sheila was right up my alley and Tom was right up Richard’s. Losing them as neighbors was a primary reason I had no hesitation about giving up my fantasy of rebuilding on the lake.
Our first experience with Sheila was with her voice wafting over the water as she practiced her operatic arias. We’d see Tom coming and going to the glider hanger that he shared with several glider enthusiasts. As we got to know their interests, Sheila and I would share bits of our culinary creations and discuss all manner of arts and philosophy while Richard and Tom would have grand boating adventures and building projects, and bonded over shared volunteer work on the Higgins boats at the World War II Museum. I can’t even express what a great loss they were as our neighbors.
Sheila has agreed to have me help represent her visual arts. I’m so hoping that she’ll also teach some classes on her passionate pursuits. At least, we’ll now have a reason to see each other again soon.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Palest Pastel Plateau
The Cumberland Plateau
As rainy night descends.
Mists settling over all.
New leaves-- lime sherbet green.
Lavenders, blues, and mauves.
Like Monet impressions
In the palest pastels.
As rainy night descends.
Mists settling over all.
New leaves-- lime sherbet green.
Lavenders, blues, and mauves.
Like Monet impressions
In the palest pastels.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)