Down Time

We're heading out tomorrow, for our favorite place. I'll enjoy a little beach time, pool time, visiting the old places, and eating lots of she crab soup. I'm taking my laptop but planning on using it very little. Y'all have a good week, and be sweet! Bye!

I Heart Old Things

I like vintage stuff. Vintage kitchen appliances (last year I was on a vintage mixers kick), antique books, vintage dishes, antique toys, and vintage linens are a few of my favorites. Right now I seem to be on the linens kick. A couple of months ago my dad asked me to clean out some of my mothers things that had been left in a drawer of her dresser, untouched for years. I knew the items were there. I had spent several quiet afternoons alone in my father's house over the past few years, snooping through my mom's things, lifting each item delicately from its resting place, unfolding and gently refolding after I relived long ago memories. In the drawer that he sent me to were about 7 or 8 old aprons. All but one were for little girls, made probably 40-50 years ago by the hands of my grandmother and great grandmother. The designs and colors varied, mostly gingham, trimmed in lace. One is a light gingham blue, trimmed in white lace. Others are gingham green, trimmed in red ric rac, with a tiny rose made from red ribbon on the little pocket. One is made from cloth patterned with Santa's big rosy smiling face. I vaguely remember those little aprons, wearing them as a tiny girl. I found one that my mom wore all the time. I vaguely remember my grandmother wearing it too. I'm not sure how old it is but I can remember my mom wearing it throughout my childhood and later in my adult years. I brought it all home with me. I spent this weekend gently washing each apron and hanging it to dry, then pressing with the iron. I was careful of the delicate lace trim, some of which was already spotted brown with stain and even had tiny little holes. I don't know what to do with them. I went ahead and packed away the little aprons, in a box with tissue. I'll share them with my sister, perhaps if she comes to visit this summer.

Daddy also sent me home with a few vintage doilies, made by the hands of my aunt, long gone to heaven. One doilie is fairly large. I plan to put it in the center of my dining table, maybe add a tall vase of long stemmed calla lillies. I like simplicity.

Aren't these table linens lovely? I am longing for a set of vintage table linens, like these, with a beautiful, yet subtle design. I'm sure there are some around my childhood home somewhere. I'll go snooping, or junkin' the local antique stores soon. Maybe, when I head south to my sea islands next week, I'll spend a day junkin' around Brunswick and Savannah.

I'll take pictures soon of the aprons and doilies. I'd love ideas about what to do with the little aprons. The big apron of my mama's? I'll be using that one. Carefully.

My Place

This is my lake. Over 500 miles of beautiful, island like scenery. Fresh water, straight from the mouth of the lovely Chattahoochee River. The Chattahoochee flows down "out of the Hills of Habersham, into the Valleys of Hall" (from the poet Sidney Lanier, Song of the Chattahoochee) forming the beauty that is Lake Lanier. We have a little cabin nestled here, along the shoreline. For the past few years, our lake has suffered. The ravages of drought, and questionable decisions by the government and the Corp of Engineers has drained this beauty dry. Her shores have been left ragged, cracked red mud, and empty. But, with the rains of late, she is finally refreshed, returning to her natural beauty.

I think I'll go swimming today. I probably won't make it before noon, but this is a picture of Lake Lanier in the early morning. I love it when the lake looks like this, smooth and calm, before the boaters arrive to break up the stillness. They come in droves, heading north to my lake from the big city, eager to escape the chaos that is the "ATL." I hope today, being a weekday, the lake will be quiet. I want to sit under the umbrella, on the dock, and read...without being jostled by boat traffic, without listening to the constant whine of jet skis.

I long for a quiet, still, early morning on the lake. God is there in the mornings. When I arrive down on the shore early in the morning, I feel Him. He whispers to me in the wind that dances in the tall pines. He laughs with me in the busy chirping and singing of the morning birds. He touches my cheek in the gentle warmth of the rising sun. I'll go there and visit Him this week. He will refresh me like the rains have refreshed my lake...full, alive, new. I love this reminder, "His mercies are new and fresh every morning" for me, and for you.

Random Thoughts on a June Day

Thought #1. I'm worried. Worrying too much I suspect. After all, "worrying doesn't solve anything" my granny always said. FEAR=False Evidence Appearing Real. I'm worried about our economy, people losing their jobs, our finances, short hours this summer, which means shorter paycheck. I worry about my children, especially my oldest boy right now, trying to work, find anything, to make ends meet. Isn't the next generation suppose to do better than the last? What will the future hold? I don't know. But, I tell myself, "I know who holds the future."

Thought #2. I'm tired of worry, of sickness, of death, of grief, of disappointment. Here I am blogging that thought, when I don't even want to talk about it anymore. I want to talk about something fun, I want to think on fun things, on happy things. I want to laugh, howl, roll on the floor with laughter. I want to sleep at night without waking up frightened and not knowing why. But, I tell myself, "Jesus is my portion. A constant friend is he. His eye is on the sparrow, and I know he watches me."

Thought #3. I love June. June is my absolute favorite month of the year. Ahhhh, June...
The promise of summer, free and adventurous.
Magnolia blooms, large and bright on the big tree at daddy's house.
Jasmine, small and white, sweet and intoxicating, covers the lattice work on the
deck.
Bluebirds in the field, and new babies in the birdhouse.
Cardinals in the thicket along the fence.
Sunset on the dock, when the lake is still and quiet, and the colors of the evening
sky are reflected in the mirror of water.
Evening birds as the swoop and dart along the surface.
The sound of my boy and his dog, playing ball on the cul de sac. Laughing and
barking go together very well.
St Simons Island, dripping with spanish moss...and memories. Memories of
Granny, and oyster roasts, and a little gullah boy named Boo.
Crabbing on the Black Banks River, and the smell of the marsh.
Ice Cream at the pier.

Thought #4 June is a magical month. My thoughts fill with warm days and cool nights, savoring the gentleness of early summer, before it grows into dog day afternoons and steamy nights.

Thought #5 "Arise my darling, my beautiful one, and come with me. See! The winter is past; the rains are over and gone. Flowers appear on the earth, the season of singing has come."
Song of Solomon