A long rest was just the thing I needed to get my creative juices back in action. I've been working on several new projects at "The Manor" and there are stories a'brewing in my head. I feel like one of those witches in the old Halloween films, standing over a bubbling cauldron. Only instead of eye of newt and leg of worm, I'm chanting adjectives and cursing dangling participles and writer's block!
I hope you are all doing well. It's a lovely grey Tuesday here in Georgia and fall is definitely in the air. The leaves are just beginning to turn. Harvest time is here and people are gearing up for Halloween celebrations, Fall Festivals and Harvest Home gatherings.
I've had wonderful feed back so far on my new blog designs! I thought the vintage Halloween background would make for a whimsical touch for the month of October. I'm initiating a new posting schedule for this blog (Tuesdays and Thursdays) and will be posting on my other two on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. I do hope you'll join me at each of those. The links are on the side bar (The Gypsy Scribe and Woolgathering).
Instead of waxing poetical about nothing in particular (a rather Lewis Carroll habit I have cultivated over the years), I thought I'd start this season out with a note of thanks and a little trip down memory lane:
I was raised to love simple things: wood burning stoves, collecting rocks while driving down old dirt roads. We used to pile in the van on Saturdays, stop by the "Cupboard" for a Coke, a Dr. Pepper, two Sprites, peanuts and cream filled crackers. Dad would pour the peanuts into his Coke, Mom would lazily sip her Dr. Pepper, and my sister and I would lick the cream out from between the cookies then toss the empty chocolate shells out of the open windows. Food for the birds, we reasoned. We made up songs about boiled peanuts and groaned when our parents would put in cassettes of that "mountain music". We grew up with vegetable gardens, hammered dulcimers, playing Indians. We bought stuffed black bears and drums every year from Pigeon Forge and erasers that smelled like school boxes from China Berry General Store. Grilled cheese at Cracker Barrel, off the beaten path herb gardens in Shaker and Amish country, old quilts, hurricane lamps, dried flowers from Maine. These things and more-rocking chairs, old Coca Cola crates, Moon Pies-pull me back to the past, to my family, to what really matters. Here's to you, Mom and Dad: Thanks for raising me to love old things and country back roads. And thanks to Boochie, for painting your face red with lipstick and riding the Rudy Coaster 42 times in a row! (Love, Sissy)
Hope your fall is filled with happy memories. Here's to making many, many more.