He walks a limb, unconcerned, undeterred, master of his own destiny.
Alone at the top of the world, competent, exuberant.
Dangling meters above the earth, unafraid, unhampered.
Innocence in motion, carefree; nonchalance as an art form.
My heart climbs with this fearless child, for my body no longer can.
May he know this joy for the entirety of his life.
We completed work on our faerie home and placed it on a stump in our backyard. We checked on it first thing this morning, and sure enough, a family of wee folk had already moved in.
It seems they’d already had a home there, we just couldn’t see it until we built one! Fae magic is a strange and wonderful thing, indeed. Their story, that of Clan O’Laughlin, is recorded below. I had a little help with the telling of it.
“Clan O’Laughlin”
According to legend, over two hundred years ago, young Seamus O’Laughlin accidentally poached a lamb from his faerie king, the fearsome Grady O’Grady. Seamus wasn’t a thief, but his family was starving and when he came across the lamb wandering along a country lane he didn’t think twice, but took it home to be made into stew.
His wife, Brigid, knew immediately that the lamb belonged to Grady O’Grady and that if the king discovered the crime Seamus would be hanged in the public square for all the wee folk to witness. After cooking the stew Brigid gathered her loved ones together for one last meal in the family home.
“We must flee this place, and be quick about it,” Brigid told Seamus and their little ones, Ian and Aileen, as they partook of the hearty lamb stew.
That very night Brigid and Seamus placed their few valuable possessions into their small wagon. The door to their humble domicile, constructed many thousands of years ago by Seamus’s great-great-great grandfather was laid atop an heirloom bench and Brigid’s wash tub for their journey to parts unknown.
After many days of rough journey across the Irish countryside, the O’Laughlin family arrived in a port town and stowed away on a huge ship. Safely belowdeck, Seamus scavenged for leftover food from the human passengers while Brigid tended the little ones and made tasty meals from scraps.
Weeks passed before the boat docked in a place the sailors called “Florida.” Anxious to be off of the shop, Brigid climbed to the crow’s nest undetected by human eyes and scoped out the prospects for her family.
“Seamus,” she said, returning to their hideout after breathing the fresh air and looking out over the green land, “I believe we can make our new home here.”
And Seamus, eager to make Brigid happy, agreed. The family once again loaded the wagon and set off for the interior of Florida.
Many strange creatures accosted the family on its journey. They quickly learned to avoid lizards, snakes, and alligators. Seamus lost a finger fighting off an aggressive gecko, but Brigid nursed him back to health with herbs from Ireland that she’d packed for the trek.
Finally Seamus led the small band to a forest beside a lake. Here he and Brigid built a home and established Clan O’Laughlin on American soil. And to this day, Seamus’s family resides near Havana, Florida, in the shadow of a home occupied by kind, peace-loving humans.
Saturday (tomorrow!) I am meeting our son in Jackson, Mississippi, and bringing our oldest granddaughter, Dominique (13), and our youngest grandson, Jackson (10), home with me for two whole weeks!
Eeeee! Time spent with the grands is the best.
I have a list of fun stuff to do while they’re with me in Havana, Florida, including trips to the beach, to the water park in Valdosta, Georgia, and to the wonderful Tallahassee Museum. Plus we’ll fish off of the dock in our backyard and maybe play Pokemon Go! I see exhaustion in my future.
The blog might take a backseat for two weeks, but surely I’ll have time to add some pictures of our adventures to keep me in the habit of posting daily. I have a few posts queued up, as well.
Now I need to go freshen the bedding in the guest rooms and make sure my stock of snacks is sufficient for two hungry kids.
So excited! Peace, people!
within the hour, sun will slip
below trees’ ruffled edge
and froggy songs exuberant
hold court on center stage.
woods and lake commune in joy
as day’s light softly fades
through oaken leaves reflected there
in still water’s patient gaze.
paradise exacts a price
its beauty never owned
only borrowed for the briefest time
when evening light turns gold.
peace, people.
I dig quirky places. If Studly Doright ever gets to retire I’m going to insist on a leisurely tour of offbeat destinations.
On our way home from Texas early this month we stopped at a gem of a place just this side of Pensacola. It wasn’t my first stop there, but Studly had never experienced the Oasis Travel Center before. It’s part convenience store, part gift shop, part fast food kiosks, and part diner.
The VW bus pictured above serves as the establishment’s front entryway. Then once inside one’s senses are assailed by all manner of funky fun: yard art, a pirate ship, unique tshirts, and college fan gear.
The diner, though, is the grooviest. 
Dubbed the “Derailed Diner,” it’s designed to look as if a train has come barreling through the side of the building, complete with the resulting rubble.
This entrance opens directly into the diner, and every now and again the signal crossing activates with light and sound.
The inside of the diner is an eclectic mix of kooky memorabilia.
One can dine at the Derailed Diner lunch counter:
Some of the stools are a bit on the wild side. There’s a John Deere tractor seat and a saddle,
a pair of airplane seats,
and a motorcycle passenger’s seat, complete with fender and saddlebags.
Away from the counter are regular tables, but there were also tailgates with small TV sets in the spirit of drive-in movies. 
The train motif continued inside, as well,
Many tables are decorated to represent various states. We sat at the Kansas table where Dorothy’s ruby red slippers served as salt and pepper shakers, while a Wizard of Oz game under glass added to the theme.
Everywhere one looked there was something to spark the imagination.
I was curious about the origin of this certifiably quirky place, and one of the waitresses directed me to this sign:
If you ever find yourself on Interstate 10 between Pensacola and Tallahassee, look for the Oasis Travel Center. The restrooms are clean, the food is good, and the people are friendly.
Peace, people!
Once the sun sets over Lake Yvette the sky takes on a subdued tint, filtered through a green
Glass, vintage Coke bottle. Stillness supersedes movement in the magic time between
Day and night. No leaves rustle. No animals stir. Deep silence permeates until broken
By the trill of a lone bird. Here I am, he calls. I rule the evening. Hear my plea, oh Lord.
I try to answer him, but we speak different dialects of the same language. Hear me, I cry. Nothing more.
Doright Manor is nestled on a small lake in a wooded area just outside of Tallahassee, Florida. Our nights are filled with the sounds of frogs exerting dominance over their domain and the occasional hoot of an owl.
Occasionally, though, the sounds of lake life are accompanied by the sounds of muffled gunfire from a nearby gun range. Tonight the gun reports are seemingly non-stop, and even though they’re far enough away as to be non-threatening, I cannot help but imagine what the victims of gun violence in Orlando experienced upon hearing that pop pop pop up close.
Was that one meant for me?
Dear God, my friend’s been killed.
Oh Mother, I loved you so!
Every National Rifle Association member should be required to visit with the family of someone murdered by a gun. Wayne LaPierre, president of the NRA, should be required to walk through a site devastated by gun violence. He should have to face the families affected and explain to them why the AK 47 is necessary to their security and health.
But cowardice is the hallmark of the NRA. They hide behind their beloved guns and talk the big talk. Only a good guy with a gun…show me those good guys for I have yet to see a single one.
Peace, people.
Before every big road trip we take either Studly Doright initiates the phrase, “Off again, on again, gone again, Flanigan,” or I do. It’s part of our family culture.
His PaPa Noyes taught him to say the phrase as a small child, back before Studly was known as Studly. PaPa dealt in scrap metal and would often invite one or more of his grandsons to ride along to Fort Worth. They couldn’t leave the “yard” in Hereford, Texas, until the words were chanted.
Studly passed on the tradition to me, then to our children, and most recently to our grandchildren. Tomorrow as I head to Orlando to meet up with our niece CB and her family for a weekend at DisneyWorld I’ll say the words even though no one else will be in the car to hear them.
I’m too excited to sleep!
Peace, people!
Green cast of twilight
birds’ song floating from tall trees
forest peace descends
Lake without ripples
leafy reflections confound
filtered light descends
Red chairs keeping watch
over sunset’s still water
silent guardians
While giving the cats their treats this morning I looked out the window next to their respective bowls and saw this critter:
I wanted to get a closer look, so I threw some jeans and a t-shirt on and hurried outside hoping he hadn’t had time to hide. A turtle can be surprisingly fast.
Of course the closer I got to this guy the further in he drew his head.
Until finally all I could see was the very tip of his nose. He didn’t trust this giantess. Can you blame him?
In other nature news, one of our magnolia trees is working overtime.
I have to confess that until I had a magnolia I had no idea what they looked like. The blossoms are super-sized, and the leaves look like they’ve been sprayed with Pledge. And they make a terrific mess on the forest floor. The flower on the left appears to be ready to blossom at any moment.
Studly Doright has begun working on the beautification of our front entryway. We have quite a bit of work to do and no clear idea of how we want to decorate this area. I’m not a gardener, so I’m not entertaining thoughts of planting anything, except maybe a few container plants. Suggestions are welcome.
The neighbors across the road have been busy clearing trees out of their front yard. Like a little kid, I love watching the work being done.
Every now and then I pinch myself. How did I manage to end up in such a lush paradise with a lake in my backyard? There are more trees in my neighborhood than within the city limits of my beloved hometown in the dusty Texas panhandle.
I hope you’re where you want to be this morning.
Praying for Eyebrowz 