Messages That Matter
The view from a footbridge in Tugalo Park, Ga., a cool, leafy primitive camp and picnic area surrounding Yonah Dam in the North Georgia mountains. This neck of the woods winds across the border into South Carolina and back again, and from here it’s just a short drive to two Georgia waterfalls, Tallulah and Toccoa.
The James Wilkins House Bed and Breakfast was my home away from home during the Labor Day weekend of 2011. The Queen Anne home was built in 1894 and is located in Campbellsburg, Ind. It is about 30 miles from the resort communities of West Baden Springs and French Lick. I love everything about this house, right down to the purple side door.
One early summer day a few years ago, I was clicking away in my sister’s yard in suburban Atlanta, mostly concentrating on the plethora of flora on display. Her boxer, Cricket, a most contented canine who would never dream of leaving her people when off leash, meandered down the sidewalk and then stood, transfixed. When I saw the preserved image, I thought she was gorgeous enough to be Miss June on a 12 Months of Beautiful Boxers calendar. Certainly, I love the dog and am biased, but I have to say, virtually each time we walked together at a neighborhood park, we were stopped by at least one passer by who said, “That is one of the most beautiful dogs I’ve ever seen.” What can we say? She rocks that brindle look.
121 Lavenia Lane, my grandparents’ home in Magnolia, Ky., was quite a lifeforce, just as my grandparents themselves. As a child and teenager, the homeplace was closely clipped, pruned, painted, and “picked up,” but of course as my grandparents got older, a type of wildness crept into the place. But even the wildness had a beauty of its own. In those last years, the flower beds were always full but never planted, the blooms appeared voluntarily from the countless plants set over 50-odd years of living and gardening. And, although many basic chores were forgotten by my grandmother, she always kept the porch and carport swept clean. If there were puddles, she’d up-end the broom so the bristles would dry without warping … so perhaps not so very wild really.
It took some time, and a few false starts and late freezes, but Spring finally made it to Kentucky, and what a Spring it is. The dogwoods, pink and white, have never looked more lovely. Pollen counts are off the charts and I’m popping the Excedrin daily, but a walk in one of Louisville’s many gorgeous parks, and even the familiar terrain around my home, and the pain subsides.
Chip’s limit for one session of walking is a little under two miles. He hangs in there like a trooper with those little legs. Thankfully he’s pretty light to carry. Yesterday at Seneca Park, we had to take a breather.
