Summer Staycation in Nashville or Wherever YOU Live

Summer Staycation in Nashville or Wherever YOU Live

Twelve summers ago, I did a blog series on staycations in Nashville, my home of 30+ years. While there’s no more Pangea, Jackson’s, Las Paletas, Hermitage Cafe, or Rotier’s, sadly, we still are known for our “Music Under the Magnolias.” National Geographic named us the #1 City in the World to visit in June for the CMA festival (June 9-12), nearby Bonnaroo (June 16-19), and Full Moon Pickin’ Parties. Check out the calendar for live music at Nashville Scene.

Download my updated Nashville Guide below for staycations and vacations in my city, and read on for more ways to take a staycation in Nashville or wherever you live.

In the last 9 years, I’ve lived in six homes in three countries. Now I get up with the fishermen and my neighbor’s rooster. to see the sun rising on the Cumberland River/Old Hickory Lake. For the first time, I can see the sunrise, sunset, and moon from my outdoor space.

Summer (sing it like Andy Williams) is “the most wonderful time of the year.” Since I was five, I’ve started a new school year in August. Since I was five, I’ve been more excited about summer break. I love teaching at a university, loved teaching abroad, and have great memories of teaching in Nashville, Tennessee before that. But summer has always felt like FREEDOM because it provides TIME… to learn, to explore, to reconnect, to rest. Summer calls me to come out and play, to experience wonders at whim. I collect them …like lightening bugs in a jar…and see all that glows.

Traveling provides adventures and new perspectives. So can staying home.

“The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new lands but seeing with new eyes.” ~ Marcel Proust

A different perspective can make this summer or any season good.

Summer can provide a respite. With war abroad and at home, shootings, inflation, gas prices, and work/financial/health and/or relationship challenges, we need peace. Seeing your hometown in a different light (literally) can be surprising. Over the last couple of years, I’ve spent a lot of time watching sunsets with locals and other travelers who gather on Florida’s western coast. Seeing the golden orb dip into the ocean, melt into the sea, and vanish from the horizon is magic to me. One day I hope to live near the ocean, but after living in Nashville 30+ years, I’ve realized over the last six weeks how beautiful sunrises, sunsets, and summer moons are here, too.

Slowing down and getting outside lowers blood pressure and heart rate. The sun provides Vitamin D for improved mood. Even 20 minutes in a green space makes us mentally happier and healthier.  And bonus, it makes us more productive.

Here are 7 easy ways to slow down in Nashville or wherever you live this summer. DO try this at home.

1. Watch sunrises, sunsets, and full moons whenever, wherever possible. 

In a world of so much flux, knowing the sun will rise and set daily is comforting. No two sunrises or sunsets are the same, a reminder that change in the hands of the Creator can be a beautiful thing. I’m reminded that the One who paints the heavens has got this. I pray for answers… miracles I need. Until answers come… even if they never come… I feel childlike wonder again and peace.

See large files of photos here.

Other places to watch the sunrise and sunset in Nashville: Pedestrian Bridge, Acme Feed & Seed rooftop, Love Circle, Westin, Natchez Trace Bridge. 

The higher the altitude, the better, but you may meet a scary bird with a a wingspan of more than 3 feet that lands on the branch of a giant oak and eyeballs you with a Meet the Parents Circle of Trust stare.

2. Take a walk for mind, body, and spirit. Walking inspires creativity. Creativity improves your health.

A student in my literature class,” The English Romantics and their Legacy: Sustainability, Social Justice, and Self-Discovery,”researched how walking in nature — particularly the UK’s Lake District — not only inspired the subjects and themes of William Wordsworth’s poetry but also charged his brain with the creativity needed to write it. Transcendentalists Ralph Waldo Emerson, Henry David Thoreau, and other writers at Brook Farm considered walking crucial for creativity. So did Charles Dickens. Psychology now supports the theory.

In my “Travel Tales” course I encourage writers do Photo Walks. I did my first Photo Walk in Marrakesh. With so much stimuli, it was a way to focus (literally). Walking and shooting arouses curiosity, jumpstarts creativity, and provides a way to remember details when writing later.

I checked out my new neighborhood in Old Hickory Village (below) just as I did when I moved to Marrakesh and Santo Domingo. Like always, I enjoyed finding historical homes, gorgeous gardens, and quirky yard and window decorations.

Other historic neighborhoods for a photo walk in or near Nashville: 12th South (see tea party below), East Nashville, Downtown Franklin. Best nature walks at Radnor Lake, Edwin Warner Park, Percy Warner Park.

3. Create a relaxing outdoor space (patio, porch, deck, balcony) or claim one (in a park or sidewalk cafe) for a staycation/home office.

Colorful fabric or pillows make me happy. Bird feeders invite fine feathered friends. Watching them makes me smile.

Grow something that looks, smells, and tastes good.

When the kids were little, we had three gardens and fifty roses in our yard. Apartment living meant downsizing to container gardens in Morocco, my cabin in the woods/cottage in the shire, and now. My last apartment was tucked away in a hollow in the hills, Ella and I were 5 minutes from walks at Edwin Warner Park and less than 10 minutes from Percy Warner Park and Cheekwood Botanical Gardens. Deer, Canadian geese, ducks, chipmunks, and woodpeckers were regulars around our patio. But with all the trees, sun-loving plants didn’t do so well. This summer my garden has plenty of sun with a balcony facing east and north/west. So, I went a little crazy…

What to Plant

Check out your zone.

I begin visiting nurseries like Moore and Moore Garden Center in February and by March stalking the garden sections of Lowe’s and Home Depot. In Tennessee, my list starts with herbs for cooking that didn’t make it through the winter. Sing it like Simon & Garfunkel:

  • Parsley (Italian)
  • Sage
  • Rosemary
  • Thyme
  • Oregano
  • Lavender
  • Basil (when weather is warmer)
  • Cilantro
  • Mint

*My never-lets-me-down-drought- resistant-reminds- me- of-Switzerland-all-time- favorite: pink geraniums. They even survived last winter.

Morning sun…

  • Hydrangeas (Blue, White)

Shade

  • Boston Fern

Aromatherapy

  • Jasmine
  • Gardenia tree (needs intense morning sun, afternoon shade)
  • Roses
  • Petunias
  • Stock

Tribute to Morocco

  • Bougainvillea
  • Lime tree
  • Lemon tree
  • Olive tree

4. Invite friends over.

Whether serving burgers straight from the grill, Aperol Spritzes on a balcony while planning a trip to Italy, or cucumber sandwiches at High Tea on the terrace, making time to catch up with people who feed your soul makes life richer. Walking with friends to my favorite neighborhood restaurant works, too. Anywhere outside.

Nachos, pizza, fish tacos, and the best baby back ribs I’ve had at Sam’s at Turtle Bay. The cocktail list will transport you to the beach

Southern hospitality comes in many forms. My friend Beth makes the best summer dishes from her backyard garden. Nora extends invitations to swim in her creek in Watertown and camp out on her farm for an anniversary throwdown.

In my summer newsletter (subscribe in popup on Home Page), I share recipes for outdoor gatherings. Carol Ashworth, Airbnb property owner (recommended in my Nashville guide), world traveler, and hostess of her much-loved Daffodil Tea Party, shares her mother’s Italian Cream cake recipe and more. Her soirées have included tributes to Queen Elizabeth who made history this year with 70 years of service. Celebrating the Platinum Jubilee, magnolia blossoms in bloom, or just the season for sitting in the shade and sipping Earl Grey, wine, or whisky from a teacup… Carol’s hosting tips are useful for all kinds of outdoor parties. I’ll also share tips on tea parties for children.

5. Make your bath a spa.

Scented candles, bubbles, essential oils, music, ocean sounds, or meditation … a glass of wine (or coffee which I did when my kids were little and the only quiet time I had was before school). Certain scents (and rose petals in the water) transport me back to Moroccan baths in riads known for relaxations like this one.

Note: There are affiliate links to Amazon products below (at no cost to the customer), and I only recommend what I’ve used and been pleased with myself.

6. Explore your city (or come explore ours).

A popular staycation post was the one below. The teacher in me still believes learning is fun. From Van Gogh to the American Artisan Festival to hanging out with old friends on the Big Screen in Top Gun: Maverick, Jurassic Park Dominion, and Thor: Love and Thunder, summer can be educational and epic . I plan to do all of the above plus check out sail clubs near me for lessons.

Big Band Dances in Centennial Park

If you have a film, see the extended June deadline to enter.

7. Il bel far niente. Discover what Italians call “the beauty of doing nothing.”

Lie beside a pool. Read or listen to a book, music, or guided meditation… nap on a porch swing, hammock, or quilt under a tree.

Check out: Nashville Guru’s List of Pools You Can Enjoy This Summer

And if you aren’t in Nashville or are and want a private experience, you might try “Swimply.” I can’t recommend what I haven’t done myself, but this “Airbnb of pools” idea sounds interesting.

Under the Moroccan Sun: Restoring a Holiday Home

Under the Moroccan Sun: Restoring a Holiday Home

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The house is a metaphor for the self, of course, but it also is totally real. And a foreign house exaggerates all the associations houses carry…. And, ah, the foreign self. The new life might shape itself to the contours of the house, which already is at home in the landscape, and to the rhythms around it.–Frances Mayes, Under the Tuscan Sun

I love a love story, a happy ending, a dream come true.

In 2016, three weeks before I left Marrakesh, I received a message from a blog reader, a woman from Kerry County, Ireland. She’d lived in London twenty years, eleven as a  flight attendant, and was then working in the Middle East.  She reached out as a kindred spirit:

I have visited Marrakech every year for the past five years and am totally in love with it. I stay in the same riad, eat in the same restaurants, Pepe Nero, Le Foundouk, and relax in the same spa. Why change somewhere you love going? I am convinced in a previous life I lived in Morocco. Anyway, I am thinking of buying a renovated riad in Marrakech…

She wondered if I had European friends who had bought riads there as well. She wasn’t buying as a business venture but as a holiday home for herself, friends, and family. We bonded over our favorite films, Under the Tuscan Sun and The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel, stories of women who restored houses and made new lives in faraway lands. She finished:

…actually felt the need to email you as you remind me so much of one of my friends, Jo, who is just so like you with her outlook and is always taking herself off to Italy.

PS I adore Italy. Tuscany & Venice are too of my favorite places.

And with that, we were friends. I connected her with homeowners in Marrakesh who had fulfilled the same dream. Over the next two years, we stayed in contact. 

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Photo provided by Maison 71

I looked forward to her photos and updates:

It was so much fun house hunting in Marrakech online in my living room. After much research, I contacted Chic Marrakech, an estate agency, and viewed options on my visit in October 2016. The moment I crossed the door at Maison No. 71, I knew it was the house for me.  The house was in good condition, but I could imagine vividly how beautiful it could be…

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When I set foot on the rooftop terrace I could see the snow- covered Atlas Mountains in the distance. It was idyllic. It just felt right. I could see the potential, and immediately I made an offer on that day.

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Realistically if you are going to buy in Marrakesh, you need to evaluate the state of the dwelling. Many of us fall in love with the property and we don’t want to suppose that the water tanks could burst or that there could be a damaged chimney. In my case I had no roof or canopy over the courtyard and of course when I returned in February 2017 to sign the paperwork for the house and collect my keys, it rained and rained and rained. It was cold and wet and I was not prepared for the wave of emotion which came over me. It only then dawned on me, “What have I done buying a house with no roof?”

Luckily I had a friend with me who calmed me down. The next morning the sun shone and everything fell into place. The seller was a very talented Italian man named Adriano who actually restores Moroccan properties and was so generous. He shared his workers with me and also gave me his valuable time and now it has lead to a wonderful friendship. I had to rely on photos of the work which was going on, especially when I decided to replace the doors and entrance tiles. 

She forwarded me photos documenting the restoration, a labor of love.

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Photo provided by Maison 71

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Door Delivery Photo Provided by Maison 71

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Photo provided by Maison 71

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Photo provided by Maison 71

From February 2017 to present I lovingly restored the house, from furniture to tiles, everything I sourced locally.  I wanted to keep it traditional with pops of color as Marrakech is bright and colorful.  I replaced my doors with glass doors to let in more light which is really lovely in the warm days to open the doors and hear the Medina sounds around.

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Photo provided by Maison 71

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There were some mad impulsive buys like the brass princess bed which I bought without thinking it through. However it is now a much admired bed by many of my guests.

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In the souks many purchases were made from Zouak artisans who made colorful Moroccan wooden tables and other crafts. 

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Everything was done slowly and I decorated room by room. Hours were spent in Bab El Khemis, a huge antique flea market, sourcing everything– Indian paintings, French chandeliers , Moroccan lanterns and furniture which I restored. Rugs, cushions, and blankets I purchased from a local shop on my street, of course bartering which is key in Marrakech and which I enjoyed. 

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Latest update Photo provided by Maison 71

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Since Spring 2018 my friends have visited Maison 71 and I celebrated my birthday there. They all love it as much as I do.  

I focused on finding a home, a project to work for, a focus and that became Maison 71. Passion and persistence is what really matters. Dreams are achievable with hard work and focus.  I made my dream my reality in my early 40’s. I found and bought my haven in a foreign land. My dream holiday home.–Caroline

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Last June, Caroline invited me to stay in her riad as a writing retreat. It was truly an honor and blessing.  More on that in the next post… 

I’m thankful for modern-day Pen Pals. Women who share their journeys, transform houses into homes, create beautiful spaces for the soul to breathe.

Maison 71 is in the heart of the Marrakech Medina and occasionally allows guests to rent the full house for retreats or long weekends. If interested, reference this post and make inquires here: admin@maison71marrakech.com

 

 

 

Past, Present, Future Dickens of a Christmas

Past, Present, Future Dickens of a Christmas

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He went to the church, and walked about the streets, and watched the people hurrying to and for, and patted the children on the head, and questioned beggars, and looked down into the kitchens of homes, and up to the windows, and found that everything could yield him pleasure. He had never dreamed of any walk, that anything, could give him so much happiness. 

I will honour Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year. I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future. The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me. I will not shut out the lessons that they teach. —A Christmas Carol, Charles Dickens

A highlight of celebrating this Yuletide Season was Franklin’s “Dickens of a Christmas.”  Until last week, my sister, brother-in-law, and I had not done the annual event since first moving to Nashville.  Walking Main Street took me back to many-an-afternoon on Hoptown sidewalks spent window-shopping with Mama Lou–a time before Internet Wish Lists and a place when it was ok to spend a day “just looking.”  We’d stop in to see Mama Sargeant, Bookkeeper at J. C. Penney, have a banana split at the soda counter, and then head home to launch other adventures by way of Christmas classics.

Hoptown

Both grandmothers loved books, so I met Mr. Dickens early in life. I loved Mama Lou’s Christmas Ideals (the book and her lifelong wonder found in simple things).  Brimming like a stuffed stocking, its pictures fed my imagination with conversations between Santa and Mrs. Claus; carolers in velvet, hooded capes; and children and dogs dallying in the snow.

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Ideals

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On December 15, as cold as the Decembers of our childhoods, Penny, Jeff, and I met Kim and Andy, Franklin residents and newlyweds, in the Franklin Square. On our Sunday stroll I felt fully alive, proven by our breath misting in the streets. Inside stores twinkled with lights and all-things-pretty–cozy bedding and tulle gowns worthy of wearing by the Sugar Plum Fairy and waiting for Santa himself. Though we bought only kettle corn and sugared pecans, we savored sweet Christmas past and present.  I don’t know what Christmas Future holds, but I am confident in the One who holds it.  All is calm, all is bright because as Dickens said:

“For it is good to be children sometimes, and never better than at Christmas, when its mighty Founder was a child Himself.” —A Christmas Carol

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Kim and Andy

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Penny and Jeff

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Puckett’s Boat House

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Merry Christmas and
Merry Christmas and “God Bless Us, Everyone!”

Kids, Chaos, and Puppy Love

Kids, Chaos, and Puppy Love

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Mine would say Cindy.

No joke.  I truly thought when my children left the nest I’d fly away, too.  If I didn’t make it as far as Italy or Ecuador, I’d migrate south to Seagrove or west to Big Sur.  I’d park my vintage camper (circa 1959) and chase seagulls, collect shells, and make a mermaid my muse.  I’d bake pies like Sylvia Plath and burn rubber if I met a Ted Hughes.  I’d brunch with friends every Sunday, do book tours, and sell shirts at book fests from Austin to Boston.

My baby moved to college last August.   I’m still on Jenry Court.  It seems that while the gypsy- in- me has fantasized for years about holding up a sign on the Church Street bridge that reads, “WILL WORK FOR TRAVEL,” the mommy- in- me isn’t going anywhere.  Not for now anyway.  Maybe when my kids are out of college and in careers they love.  Maybe when I’m over teaching.  Maybe not.

We moved to this old house when Cole was three months old, and he’ll be twenty March 8th.  Outside my bedroom window, the magnolia tree, leathery leaves rustling, recollects when my boy fell from a high limb, chipping the growth plate in his ankle.  The dogwood creaks in the winter wind, bare arms spread protectively over the resting place of Annie, our golden girl three years gone.   The swing that held Taylor and Precious, her Persian, sways silently, patiently waiting for the little girl to return.

And she does.  Running ahead of her to my front door are Lindsey and Laila, the four and seven year-olds she loves like her own, my precious “grandgirls.”   They can’t wait to climb all over Cole, a 6’4” Gentle Giant come home from college, and love on Ella, my late-in-life child.

I had been on dog rescue lists for about a year, and my friends, Emily and Kim, had Facebooked me pictures of dogs in need of homes, but I wasn’t sure I could handle loving and losing again. Likewise, since my niece, Abby, started volunteering at the Bowling Green Humane Society, she’d texted photos of puppies.  I wasn’t sure if this time I’d go for a petite poofy pooch—a cuddly couch cohort–or another Golden Retriever—a hiking companion with a watchdog bark.  As a Romantic, I just knew I’d know it’s time when I saw The One.

When Abby sent a picture of a beautiful 4- month- old yellow lab with the softest fur, velvet ears, soulful eyes, and sweet face, I knew she was my baby.   The nesting I did last year– the unexplainable energy to grow a garden, paint walls, and make cupcakes pretty- as- Pinterest–all makes sense now.  I knew I was cooking like Paula Deen to lure my kids home, but I didn’t realize I was feathering my nest for new chicks.  The angst I felt a year ago, the need to make a move since Taylor and Cole were moving on, settled down and not because I settled.  Though I planned to heed the lead of my globe-trotting friend, Rawsam, and downsize to a single box of possessions, freeing me to fly, I found myself filling a sole box…for Goodwill.  Becoming a mom again didn’t ground me.  It was grounding.

Like a decade ago when I stockpiled frozen casseroles and decorated nurseries with Beatrix Potter and Winnie the Pooh,  I’m now filling Hello Kitty totes with crayons and coloring books and a dress-up trunk with feathered boas, head pieces, and old evening gowns.  I’d worn those formals out-on-the-town, then Taylor wore them trick or treating, and last New Year’s Eve, Lindsey and Laila wore them too.

Bringing in 2013 was wild.  Cole, Taylor, Chris, the girls, the pets and I gathered at my house for a sleepover.   We popped popcorn, ate candy, and watched television till midnight—just like I’d done with my grandparents, sister, and cousins.  The girls had never stayed up so late.  Laila lined up Taylor’s dolls as we watched Marley and Me (sans the sad part).   We laughed at how much Baby Marley looked like Baby Ella.  Then I didn’t laugh at how much they are alike.

As the ball dropped on Times Square, Lindsey twirled around the room in my satin formal, saying she was at a “beautiful ball.”  Then she squealed—not because she had lost her glass slipper, but because    Ella had pooped on her dance floor.  Since some parts of 2012 had been poopy, we said all the more reason to look forward to an even better 2013.  I insist the poop fell before the ball, and I’m sticking to it.

As for Ella, the adventure continues.   She licks me awake every morning and still tries to  jump like a jackrabbit to my chest, on the couch and sometimes on the cat despite doctor’s orders and my commands not to.  While I was at work, Houdini bent the kennel with her nose, escaped, and chewed my favorite shoes.  Pulling fast ones, she switched toys and rawhides to chew her leash and the foot of my antique sofa.  Though I puppy-proofed the bathroom,  she apparently climbed on the toilet seat, yanked the Venetian blinds from the top of the window to the window seal, and chewed them like bubble gum.  When I came home, she limped to see me as Cole did when he fell from the tree.  Ella fractured her tibia crest near her growth plate, scaring me to death and sending the vet on a vacation.  I wasn’t invited.  But as a friend with four golden retrievers said, I’ve invested in a companion and Europe will be there.  My mom, sis and daughter rallied around the patient, offering to sit with her if needed.  She’s family, and I couldn’t love her more.

Guess I’ve come full circle.  With a twist.  Keeping with tradition, I might take Ella to Florida this spring since Cole went there after his foot fracture—his cast covered in plastic.  Maybe the whole gang will go. Or one day we may pull that camper to Cali, Ella riding shotgun, my kids and their families following behind.    Home is where the heart is.  I hope mine always beats with kids, chaos, and puppy love.

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Abby’s pic of The One

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Cole and Magnolia

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Baby

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Cole’s move

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Laila and Lindsey at the New Year’s Eve Ball

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Taylor, Laila and me Christmas Eve

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Someday

 

 

 

 

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True Blue

True Blue

I’ll have a blue Christmas. But not the kind Elvis sang about.

I had those blues all spring as I fretted over fall when my nest would empty. I’d always said that when my chicks left, I’d fly away, too, preferably to anywhere under the Tuscan sun. Or, if I stayed in town, to a bungalow in East Nashville. But when the whole Metamorphosis- thing finally came, it left me feeling more like Kafka’s Beetle-Boy than Skynyrd’s Freebird. Rather than soaring on wings I felt upside down, feet flailing. After living with parents, a college roommate, then a family of my own, I’d never flown solo. Existential choices over where to go and what to do made my Hamlet head spin. Wings felt…well, weird. Trying another metaphor, I repeated the mantra: “Leap, and the net will appear.” I asked Joanne Harris, author of Chocolat, her thoughts on the matter. After all, she created my gypsy girl, Vianne, and lived the true artist’s life. Harris’ advice: “Try it over water.”

As with every summer, I found peace. I spent days on the deck–writing, reading, praying, swinging. I decided I would stay on Jenry Court. Like Amanda Wingfield, I made “plans and provisions” but not for a gentleman caller. In this old house I’d hosted daily, though often unaware, what Williams called that “long-delayed but always expected something that we live for.” As Cole reminded me, I’d raised him (and his sister) to adulthood and as he put it, “It has been a fun ride.” So happily I painted outdoor furniture for a family sendoff for him and my niece, Abby. The night after I took him to college, I cooked an Italian dinner for friends. We gathered in a celebration of change.

Inside I colored my world with what makes me happy–Tiffany blue–alongside my ubiquitous rich reds and punchy pinks. What a difference a can of paint can make.

I vowed to stay true to what I love–entertaining and writing–and claimed a room with a view. My dining area doubles as my writing space and from behind my computer I see pictures of good times with friends and family. My easel waits patiently in one corner while the grandfather clock I bought with money my dad left me ticks off time in another. Engraved inside the glass door is Psalm 90:12: “Teach us to number our days, so we may present to thee a heart of wisdom.”

God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.

Nick, our neighbor, came home from his college on Thanksgiving break and played Xbox with Cole. Last night Taylor, Mom and I saw the final movie in the Twilight series. Tay and I thought it was the best of the bunch. We finished leftovers today, and Cole and Mom are watching Home Alone–the original–downstairs. Thankfully, some things don’t change.