Last weekend my husband and I returned to Aldridge Gardens—a thirty-acre woodland garden featuring a lake, wide trails, whimsical sculptures, native plants, azaleas, and hydrangeas. I needed a diversion, some sunshine, a wee bit of exercise, and a reminder of the beauty all around in nature. A walk in the gardens seemed like the perfect morning.
My husband and I recently celebrated our forty-second wedding anniversary. Milestones tend to make me contemplate time gone by—as well as look toward the future.
What do you write about, when you can’t think of anything or you don’t feel inspired? That is a great question. I feel stuck this week. I don’t want to write something just to write—and it be uninteresting or worse yet, not even worth reading.
I often think about writing a memoir or compiling a book of essays. For the most part, I have lived a rather mundane life. I can’t say that I have accomplished anything noteworthy and I am not famous. However, my life has been—and is—a journey of finding that being creative is important.
When I was in the eighth grade, I wrote a paper with the title, “Enthusiasm is Contagious.” I can’t remember what class it was for—but I do remember we had to stand in front of the room and read our paper to the class. I can’t say that anyone was bowled over with my writing or oratory skills. It was memorable because my teacher made a remark that it was an odd choice—I was not the outgoing, spirited type of person. At that moment, I realized people are judged by what is seen on the outside. I am not saying that is bad—it is a natural tendency. We can’t know what goes on inside a person.
In November 2022, I wrote a blog, “Too Many Books?” The essay ponders the question of whether or not one can own too many books.
Life all around. Are we seeing a mirror or a window? Does the scene reflect who we are or does it give glimpses into people’s lives? It is both.
The lady across the street would play “Beer Barrel Polka” on the hammond organ. The organ was in her living room and when my family walked over to visit, she always played the organ for us. I remember watching her...
Birthdays roll around every year—yes, that is obvious. When I was young, the future lay ahead and I would imagine what being an adult would be like. I made plans for my future self. Now several decades (more than several!) later, I tend to look back as much as I look forward.
Several months ago, I was in my car and as I switched off the CD and turned the radio to NPR, I heard these words . . . or, so I thought. “In Alabama trying to toughen up baby oysters . . .”
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