Sketches of Grey Submarine / Mornings /Daddy

It didn’t matter what time we got up, really, for Daddy was always up earlier. His bear frame and grizzly mustache would be found in his chair by the big window, watching the sunrise, and his even grizzlier voice would crawl deeply out of the den in a quiet, “Well, good mornin’ pumkin’”.  Kissing his…

Roots

It’s a wonder to watch Mama keep house. It’s a legacy in itself to watch her bustle and fly about and have time to kiss every child of hers that passes through a room. She pauses to drink a cup of chai in the kitchen and beam over her people. I realized as she did…

Give Me My Roses While I Live

    “It’s an old saying,”  Mama said, her voice coming over the line this morning; ” But I was reminded of it again last month when Daddy and I were on the way to the hospital during his second round of sepsis. He was reacting badly to the antibiotics, and they had shown us…

Love Story 8.

April, 2014. There was the front door, I could hear it from my room where I was sweeping. It was a bright yellow room, hung all over with photos, posters, dried roses and notes. It felt on display and I was nervous. “Oh…dear…why is he here? to Examine me? To see if I measure up? Well…

January Edition

“My Dear Mrs Watson,” you might say to me, “Judging by the amount you’ve written in the last year, I suppose we might conclude you’re Mighty Industrious at home and care nothing a’tall for these forsaken pages of your fledgling blog.” But I say to you, little blog, I deserve “Neither such praise, nor such…

Time to Talk – friendship

When a friend calls to me from the road And slows his horse to a meaning walk, I don’t stand still and look around On all the hills I haven’t hoed, And shout from where I am, “What is it?” No, not as there is a time to talk. I thrust my hoe in the…

A Place to Come Home To

Whether it was a trip packed with cousins, grandparents, tea parties, war parties in the big field behind Aunt Judy’s house, or singing schools, meetings or spending the night at a friend’s house, it was good to come home. Same old home. Same old creaky board, same ole cat in the bushes waiting to jump…

The Love Story 7.

  What I knew at the beginning of the day was that I had been scared to death of not doing a good enough job. The bride was a photographer I respected, so were her parents. I was a peewee from Georgia, who liked taking pictures of mailboxes and frogs. And people – when I…

chip on your chiseled shoulder, Ma’am

Note. This is highly un – Politically Correct. If you disagree, please comment with respect, or not at all.  There’s a lot of talk nowadays about us women – what we deserve, what we go through just Being Women; how great we are and how everyone needs to acknowledge that. We make the world go round….

Since Writing Last

No. I didn’t teach her that – not on purpose, at least. That would be a lot. A lot happens in half a year, but in summary: July – August was spent moving into our beautiful house that smelled awful. And thanking Mama and Daddy for driving 1200 miles to help us paint. Well –…

June Update…written in July

  June flew by, packing a punch full of beautiful places and people. To begin with, Bella Rose and I went to Harmony Hill Singing School. It was the first time with a baby. First time since I’d been married, in fact. Oh how hot it was, but oh how deeply sweet it was to…

May / Update

  May has always held a certain glow of magic, and even though I can go barefoot any time  I want to, there’s a certain anticipation for May First, when I can officially go barefoot and feel the long held peace of Mama’s permission. I wonder about the traditions we’ll cultivate in the Watson household?…

The Love Story 6.

Jane Austen observed well that, “A lady’s imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony in a moment.” I could plead none otherwise than guilty to this charge, and it was well reflected in my writing at the time. You see, he did in fact, not tell me his thoughts,…

The Love Story 5.

The mystery as to “why none of those Fulmer kids are married yet”, came and went about as often as the front door swung open and shut. We finally cast it up to Daddy and Mama that perhaps if they’d make life a little less exciting and pleasant at home, then it’d be easier to…

Since Writing Last

  The beautiful hydrangea he gave me for Valentine’s Day, died. RIP, Hydrangea. I went to Georgia for a week where we celebrated my parents 40th anniversary while Mama recovered from pneumonia, collaborated in directing a play, fixed us yummy meals and took Bella Rose on Grandbaby Dates. We sisters had some time to be…