Today when my irreverent twenty-something video messaged me, I explained I was making cookie press cookies. He watched me mix in the flour and work the batter until the dough was the right consistency to extrude through the press. I said the last time I used this little device he was still in elementary school, … Continue reading Thanksgiving Journal: Family Ties
Tennessee
Journal Entry: We Have Cicadas!
And the photographic evidence is right up ^ there. Last Saturday morning Scoutie and I struck out on our usual city run, which takes us down a couple of tree-line pathways that wind along the Walloomsac River in a sort of parklike setting—same river in fact that delineates the southern boundary of our property—before we … Continue reading Journal Entry: We Have Cicadas!
Travel Journal: Knoxville in a Day
I feel less connected to Knoxville every time I go back there, a thing that makes me all kinds of sad, but also somehow helps propel me forward, make my peace with where I am now. Don’t get me wrong: I shall never be a proper Yankee, but will remain forever a Southerner, wherever I … Continue reading Travel Journal: Knoxville in a Day
Travel Story: We Feed Goats in Chattanooga
Goats were not specifically why we traveled to Chattanooga (we got there by way of Christiansburg, VA, thence to Knoxville before finally arriving), but the goats proved an entertaining and comical diversion one sultry evening on Missionary Ridge; they also made splendid subjects to photograph. I’ll get to them. A theme that popped up again … Continue reading Travel Story: We Feed Goats in Chattanooga
Travel Story: We Visit Fallingwater
Let me start backwards with stories of our Way Down South trip, that is to say, start at the end, while the images and sounds and smells from our special day at Fallingwater haven’t yet faded or grown too stale. We drove out of our way to tour this exquisite Frank Lloyd Wright house, widely … Continue reading Travel Story: We Visit Fallingwater
Travel Story: Road Trip to Tennessee the WPA Way
Looky what came in last week’s mail. The only thing better would have been stumbling across this in a Vermont antique store or at a local tag sale. Well, that, and maybe a first edition, instead of this third edition. I did locate a first edition in excellent shape in another online vendor’s inventory, evidently … Continue reading Travel Story: Road Trip to Tennessee the WPA Way
Parenting Story, Part the Second: When A Thousand Miles Separate You From Your Sick Kid
Turns out, the universe was listening last week when I suggested it’s impossible always to protect your child. Especially when he is 26 and presumably the captain of his own ship—and he lives in Tennessee and you live way up in Vermont. Five o’clock a.m. on Wednesday came the messages, one after another, lighting up … Continue reading Parenting Story, Part the Second: When A Thousand Miles Separate You From Your Sick Kid
Journal Entry: Sunday Soup and Silver Polish
Polishing the silver on a glorious Sunday afternoon means one of two things: the silver is tarnished, or I’m procrastinating. I leave you to draw your own conclusions. Today I had a vestry meeting after church, which meant I got home mid-afternoon, antsy to move around after sitting on my bum for about three hours … Continue reading Journal Entry: Sunday Soup and Silver Polish
Memoir: Gettin’ My Mojo On
/mō·jō/ noun 1. a magic charm, talisman, or spell. Heck, I’d add super power to that list. Why not? Somebody inadvertently rattled my cage not long ago when they suggested blogging is obsolete. I saw it float by in a comment thread on one of my social groups on the web. (I believe the precise words were, … Continue reading Memoir: Gettin’ My Mojo On
A Christmas Story: Holidays Are Hard
A few days ago something or other I saw on the telly prompted me to hop onto the web and find out who’s living in my erstwhile home in Tennessee now—whether it’s the same people who bought it at auction in 2012, mere moments before the bank would’ve foreclosed on it, as it turns out. … Continue reading A Christmas Story: Holidays Are Hard
