The Leaning Tree

Winds have bowed him awkwardly,

Casting him askew to the others.

Maybe, though, he’s just leavesdropping,

Inserting himself into the discussion between

The sweet magnolia and the mighty oak

Across the way, shaking boughs and

Whispering poetry, listening for the owl.

Maybe he’s yearning for the lake,

Hoping for a cool breeze and a sip of water,

Or perhaps, like you, he’s just weary and

Seeks the loving arms of a companion.

Who am I to judge this leaning tree?

I’ve leaned too, in my day, and

Will again in the days to come.

Stumped

We had a lovely and dear friend from Virginia spend the night with us at Doright Manor on Friday. She and I stayed up late drinking wine and solving all the world’s problems, and I have to admit I had no time to ponder, let alone write, a blog post.

After our visitor left for further adventures along the coast on Saturday morning, I took a nap thinking perhaps a blog idea would come to my subconscious. Nope. When I awakened I noticed that Studly was out in his shop working on one of his motorcycles. I joined him, still hoping for some inspiration, but came up blank.

As I walked around the house, skirting hurricane debris, fallen leaves, and upended trees, trying my best to latch onto an idea, I finally came to the conclusion that I was stumped.

Completely and

utterly

stumped. Oh well. I’ll try again tomorrow.

Peace, people.

Age of Innocence

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.

  
   

Hanging With The Grands

I’m having such a wonderful time with my grandchildren, Dominique and Jackson, this week. 

We stopped by Studly Doright’s (Poppa’s) office.

 

Aren’t they cute?
 
Later in the day Jackson and I went for a walk around the neighborhood. He’s all about asking me to challenge him to do physical stunts, such as climbing trees and jumping over obstacles. I’m such a wimp, though, that I can never come up with a suitable activity.

I loved his question, “Nana, do you have any trees that need climbing?”

  
Dominique and I spent an hour making bird feeders out of pine cones, peanut butter, twine, and seeds. 

 Here are the final products:

 

Now we need to hang them.

The kids chopped down a couple of saplings.

 

Jackson is a born lumber Jack.
 While I watched from a safe distance. 
 

Won’t You Be My Neighbor?

This sweet home in my neighborhood has been on the market for several months.   
 I’ve never been inside the home, but the woman who lived here was lovely. She moved into Tallahassee to care for her three grandchildren after their mother, her daughter, passed away. 

Wouldn’t this gazebo be a cozy spot to sit with a good book on a fall afternoon?  
 
The large, well-tended yard has a variety of beautiful mature trees.  
  
There’s even a small garden plot in back as well as a storage shed. The lake isn’t visible in this photo, but it’s beyond the trees on the left. 
 When Miss Sandy lived there the yard always boasted a profusion of flowers in hanging baskets.

  
Now there are just the flowers in the trees. I’m not sure what this one is. It’s pink. That’s the extent of my knowledge.